Disappearing
by Corwin1
Summary: The Dursleys dies and Harry has a breakdown. He reconsiders his position and decides to have another go at occlumency. Will Snape do everything to make him fail or will he change his opinion of the Boy Who Lived? Will contain slash in future chapters.
1. No one Left to Loose

Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the plot. JK Rowling owns the characters, except for those I have created. I don't make any profit from this and I really don't own anything that belongs to JK Rowling.  
  
Warning: This story contains slashy elements. If that offends you I suggest you leave. If you don't know what that means, I suggest you find out and come back when you have if it is something that appeals to you.  
  
Disappearing  
  
-Chapter one, No one left to loose-  
  
Shocked and on the verge to tears he ran down the corridors of the almost empty school. It was Christmas and he was one of the few students who had chosen to stay over the holidays. Most had chosen to go home because it was wartimes and people wanted to spend time with family. Well, it wasn't outright war yet, but it was in the air. Everyone felt it, but no one talked about it. People didn't want to spoil the last days or weeks of peace with talk of war.  
  
The reason he ran was a letter he had gotten just a couple of minutes before. It said that he had no family left. The only family he had left had been killed in a car crash, for real this time. It had all been most unfortunate. They had been driving home pretty late after a birthday party at a relative's and had not seen the car driven by a drunk driver racing towards them in the speed of light in a crossing of two major roads. They had all been killed almost instantly and they had felt almost no pain at all.  
  
Now, he didn't like this family he had lost, but they were still a big part of his world. He had known them all his life and they were all the family he had left since his godfather died. As he ran he wondered what he had done to deserve all these bad things happening to him. He wondered why it couldn't have been somebody else's relatives or even more, somebody else's godfather. He ran out on the courtyard and set course towards the lake. By the time he got there the tears were flowing freely. He cried for his relatives and he cried for Cedric, but mostly he cried for Sirius. He cried because he hadn't been able to do something to prevent it and he cried because he just didn't want to Ibe/I anymore. He had never cried like this before, in fact he didn't want to cry like this now either, but he couldn't help himself. It was like someone had opened a door in his mind and all the locked up feelings he had ever had just flowed out in one big wave.  
  
Everything just spilled out into the cold December air. He didn't notice the cold until he felt the trails of his tears starting to turn to ice on his cheeks. He started to shake and hack his teeth in between the sobs, but he didn't go back to the warm inviting castle. The cold somehow fitted his mood so much better.  
  
Neither did he notice someone watching him from the other side of the lake. He didn't notice when this someone out of curiosity of what the boy was doing started to creep closer, only to hear his sobs all too well. When the intruder had gotten so close he, for it was a he, could see the miserable look in those green eyes he stopped. He watched for a while and, puzzled he walked away towards the castle. What did the Potter-boy have to be so miserable about? Could he be mourning Black still, or was he just fishing for attention like he always did? Probably the latter, but he had to talk to Albus about this. The boy was after all a student of his and a student's mental health was his concern, even if the student happened to be an obnoxious brat.  
  
A while later, he had no idea how long, Harry felt as if he was never going to be able to move again. His hands and feet were numb from the cold and he had frost in his hair, which he had let grow longer over the past year, and on his eyelashes from the tears and his own breath. His stomach was rumbling loudly and he realized he was pretty hungry. It had to be around lunchtime. He looked at his wristwatch and indeed it was, he had been standing out there for almost two hours. Slowly he began to walk back to the castle, not at all feeling up to being around other people, but he had to if he wanted a decent lunch. All the house elves ever gave him was sweets.  
  
Two pairs of eyes watched him closely as he entered the Great Hall for dinner. One pitch black and one light blue. They watched him as he seated himself at the end of the table, a few seats away from everyone else. They saw that his eyes were red from crying and his lips slightly blue from the cold. One pair of eyes were concerned and the other quite indifferent.  
  
Snape had talked to the Headmaster just before dinner about Potters doings, or not doings, by the lake and he had found out about the sad demise of his only remaining relatives. What he couldn't understand was why he cried so hard for them, he hadn't thought the boy even Iliked/I them. But he was going to find out soon enough, Albus was going to talk to the boy and he wanted Severus to be present since Potter's own Head of House couldn't be there. She had, like the majority of the staff gone home to visit her family over Christmas.  
  
It felt like some kind of block in Harry's mind had been lifted. Everything felt so much clearer. He felt cleansed and it was a wonderful feeling to no longer be weighted down by all these unreleased feelings. He could see things with a distance ha hadn't had before and he knew he had had enough. Enough of losses and deaths, enough of vicious rumours and reporters that spread them, enough of everything. He did not want to be the hero on which the whole wizarding world relied on, nor did he want to have all the attention it gave him. He was sick of it and he wanted change. He wanted revenge on Sirius's behalf and revenge for all the years that had been stolen from his childhood. It was no longer a war to save the wizarding world for Harry, it was a much more personal matter and somehow this seemed to give him strength and fuel him on in a task that to most people seemed rather impossible to complete. How much of a chance did a seventeen-year- old boy really have against the most powerful wizard in the world? To think that a bit of crying could be so productive.  
  
It was a very determined and yet thoughtful Harry Potter that almost bumped in to the Headmaster and Professor Snape on the way back to the Gryffindor Tower. He mumbled his excuses and was going to slip by them when the Headmaster called his name.  
  
"Could you come to my office for a minute, I'd like to talk to you." He said.  
  
"Sure." Was all Harry thought of saying. He followed the Headmaster towards his office. He had a feeling he wanted to talk about his relatives. He wondered what Snape was doing there. Was he going to be there too? Maybe it was something else they wanted to talk about, but what could that be? Occlumency lessons? Well, that would be useful to know, Harry thought, maybe he could even stand having lessons with Snape. He definitely preferred that to having Voldemort penetrating his mind. But on the other hand, how could it not be about his relatives? They had died just last morning. It had to be about them, but maybe he could bring up that he wanted to take up the occlumency lessons. He would, he decided, if the opportunity was given. Although the dreams he had about the Dark Lord had become fewer over the past months they had once again become more forceful, almost as vivid as they were in his fifth year, when he had first been introduced to the subject of occlumency. The more he thought about it the better of an idea it seemed to be. He didn't want to make the same mistake twice; he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.  
  
Well in the Headmasters office Harry seated himself in the comfortable chair in front of the large, rather messy desk. Dumbeldore sat down behind him and Snape, for some reason, decided to stand up a bit on the side.  
  
"I understand that you received a letter this morning, Harry." Dumbeldore said.  
  
"Yes, I did." He thought for a moment then he said. "It came as quite a shock to me, I." He hesitated. "I definitely didn't need that after all that's happened." He said quietly. He didn't know what else to say and he thought everything he said sounded stupid. This was much harder than he had expected it to be.  
  
"It came as a shock to me to." Dumbeldore answered. "It is very sad and I hate to say this to you now, like this, but the death of your aunt leaves us with a bit of a problem. The charm I put on you when she took you in is now broken. You are no longer protected by your mother's sacrifice, Harry." Harry looked up at Dumbeldore, the man looked very regretful to say the least. Harry didn't know how to react, he didn't know what to say and he certainly didn't know what would happen next. He just sat there, staring into nothingness, his thoughts spinning. Dumbeldore continued.  
  
"This means we have to think of other ways to protect you. One potion would be to move you to a safe house where."  
  
"No, I want to stay here at Hogwarts, it's the closest thing to a home I have." Harry interrupted.  
  
"That was the other choice I was going to present. You can stay here at Hogwarts, but you can't stay in your dorm, it is much too unprotected. You would have to stay in the dungeons, where the wards are the strongest." The dungeons?! Why did it have to be down there? It was cold and slippery and slimy and Snape lived there. Harry didn't know why really, but the man seemed to hate him. He guessed it was because of his father, but as far as Harry was concerned he wasn't very much like him, at least not like the little bits and pieces he had seen of him. "I know it's not near as much fun as the Gryffindor tower or very close to it either for that matter, but it's that or the safe house." It was an easy choice.  
  
"I'll stay here." He simply said.  
  
"Good, good. I hoped you'd say that, it will be much easier for you to finish school if you stay here. You will also have a bigger idea of what is going on around you, both outside the school, in the Order. One of us will always be nearby in case something should happen." Harry sighed.  
  
"I hate this." He mumbled under his breath, not intending for the other two to hear him. But apparently the Headmaster had heard Isomething/I.  
  
"Sorry Harry, I didn't hear that."  
  
"I said I hate this!" He burst out. "I hate not being able to control my own life and I hate being watched every move I make. If it isn't by the papers it's by someone else who doesn't know the meaning of the word privacy. I hate having everyone I love dying and I hate not being able to do anything about it. My whole life is a mess because that good for nothing fortuneteller had to make one prophecy that actually was for real. I hate it! I hate this damned scar and everything it means! I hate not being able to know who are my real friends and who are friends with me because I'm Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived." He had to catch his breath; he realized he had almost been screaming at the headmaster, who looked at him and smiled a sad smile.  
  
"I had a feeling it would come to this," He said. "but there is nothing we can do about it. You have to try to make the best of it. You have Mrs Granger and Mr Weasley and you know that you can always talk to me or any of the teachers if it is anything."  
  
"Yeah, I guess." But he didn't know if he could talk to Ron or Hermione anymore. They seemed so caught up in each other ever since they became a couple in the beginning of sixth year. It felt almost like he had lost them too, but he didn't say anything about that.  
  
"Well, I think it's best that we moved your things down to your new rooms right away. Professor Snape will show you the way down there and the house elves will bring your trunk." For the first time in quite a while now, Harry looked at his Potions professor. He looked indifferent as usual, but Harry thought he winced a bit when the Headmaster had told him to show Harry to his new rooms. The he remembered. The occlumency lessons, he had to ask the Headmaster about taking them up again.  
  
"Headmaster, There was one more thing I've been meaning to talk to you about."  
  
"Yes Harry, what's that?"  
  
"Well, I've been dreaming again. I always dream, but the dreams have started to change recently. They're becoming more and more like the dreams I had in. right before. When I got Sirius killed." The Headmaster looked at him like he had said something really horrible.  
  
"Harry, listen to me. Sirius's death was not under any circumstances your fault! Don't you ever say that again."  
  
"But if I hadn't been so stupid and learned to close my mind it had never happened and that's the reason I want to take up occlumency again." There, he said it.  
  
"You cannot think that way Harry, what happened, happened and neither you or I can change that."  
  
"But I can learn not to make the same mistake again." He said with determination.  
  
"Yes." Dumbeldore said with a sigh. He suddenly looked very old and tired. "But I am afraid I don't have the time to give you the lessons myself, but if Professor Snape is willing to take you on as a pupil again everything would work out fine anyway." Harry looked at his Potions Professor assuming the worst, an outburst of anger, an affirmation of how lousy he had been in the subject, anything but what he got.  
  
"Yes." Harry just looked at him. "I am willing to do that, on the condition that you do exactly as I say and that you take it as seriously as you should have from the beginning. The lessons will end immediately if I see you're not paying attention." The Potions Professor looked at him with the most piercing stare, as if he was trying to get in to Harry's mind even now. Harry shivered and thought that he had some long, unpleasant lessons ahead of him if he didn't change his mind very quickly.  
  
"Thank you Professor Snape. I will not fail this time." He was very determined not to and he became even more determined now that Snape was going to teach him. He didn't want to be more humiliated in front of that man than absolutely necessary. He'd been humiliated enough today already by his outburst earlier and then by admitting he blamed himself for Sirius's death. It Iwas/I true that he had laid some of the blame for Sirius's death on himself; he just hadn't meant to say it to Dumbeldore and certainly not in front of Snape. But on the other hand he had said a lot of things the last half hour that he hadn't meant to say. He didn't know what had come over him earlier. Maybe it was a good thing that all those things had been said, but maybe it wasn't. Maybe it had changed Snape's image of him wallowing in his fame at every chance he got, but he hardly thought it had. That image was so deeply rooted that it would take much more to get Snape to re-evaluate it. At least that's what Harry thought. It's not like he wanted to become best friends with the Potions teacher, but he didn't like the idea of Ianyone/I hating him like that, not when it could be avoided, or in this case, repaired.  
  
"Well, now that's settled it might be a good time to go see your new rooms." The Headmaster suggested. "Would you show him the way Severus?" Snape moved towards the door and Harry rose from his chair.  
  
"Follow me Potter."  
  
They walked under silence and Harry had a bit of a hard time keeping up with the other man's pace, even though he was quite the athlete after having practiced quidditch almost every week for the last seven years. He thought the silence was awkward, but he didn't want to make it even more so by trying to start a conversation.  
  
They walked down the dungeons, past the Potions classroom and down a corridor to the left. Snape stopped in front of a large portrait of a man Harry didn't recognize.  
  
"This is it. The password is "Potter", for now, but you can change it if you want to. If you do you have to tell either the Headmaster or me what the new password is, in case something should happen. " Snape turned his back to Harry and continued walking down the corridor. He stopped in front of what Harry presumed to be another portrait and said something to it. The portrait swung open and Snape stepped in. Maybe it was Snape's private chambers. He was going to live next to Snape?! He shook his head and turned to take a closer look at the portrait.  
  
The man in the portrait was fairly young, maybe five or six years older than Harry. He had brown, nicely cut hair and greenish-brown eyes with thick lashes. The one ear that was visible was pierced and in it hung a beautiful blue, oval stone. He had nice clothes, not all that old fashioned, like some of the portraits had, but more timeless and stylish in a way. His mouth was rather thin, but well shaped and you could see the traces of dimples in his cheeks. The man was attractive, no doubt about that and there was something slightly familiar over him, but Harry couldn't point out what it was. He looked like someone, not strikingly like anyone, but enough to make one look twice. He moved very little and didn't seem to notice Harry at all.  
  
"Hello." He tried. "I would like to change my password."  
  
"Oh, hi! I didn't see you there, young man." The portrait had bright voice for a man. "You were saying?"  
  
"I live, ehrm, behind you and I would like to change the password."  
  
"Oh, so you're the new resident. Well, I need to have the old password before you can do any changes." The portrait smiled and Harry thought it was studying him awfully close, almost checking him out. It's just a portrait he thought to himself, it's Inot/I checking you out.  
  
"Potter." He said.  
  
"That's it indeed, what do you want instead?" Harry thought for a while.  
  
"Disappear." He finally said because that's what he had felt like doing most of the day. He told the portrait to open and he went in to inspect his new home.  
  
Severus Snape scowled as he went into his rooms. Why did the brat have to live down in the dungeons? Now there'd probably be Gryffindors all over the place, upsetting the calm in the otherwise so quiet corridors. He would have to make his rooms soundproof and he would probably have to tighten the wards around them too. Now that Potter knew where he lived he probably wouldn't hesitate to try to break in to his rooms, whether to play him a prank or to steal something. On top of all that he had to teach the boy occlumency. If Dumbeldore hadn't been there when he asked he would have said no without thinking twice and never told anyone about it, but the old man wouldn't have accepted no for an answer up in his office. So he said yes, but he had, however, very much meant what he said when he told the boy that he would quit the lessons if he didn't pay attention and do his best. He was not willing to waste time on having private lessons with a student that didn't want to learn. He did that all day anyway. Ungrateful brats. Potter had seemed eager to learn earlier though, and what was that he had said about Black? Did he really take the blame for his godfather's death or did he just feel sorry for himself? Snape didn't want to know because it meant he had to ask and he certainly didn't want to look like he cared, because he didn't.  
  
When Harry got in to his new rooms he was surprised by how liveable they seemed. The first room was a small living area with a fireplace with a couch placed in front of it. There was a small table beside the couch to the left and the wall on both sides of the fireplace was covered with shelves that could be filled with books. On the floor lay a thick cosy rug and in the left upper corner seen from the door stood a small table and two chairs. The walls didn't look slippery and the floor wasn't cold. He continued to the bedroom and was pleasantly surprised by a large four- poster bed with dark blue covers. It looked very soft and inviting. He realized that crying and telling people what he really thought was quite exhausting. His trunk stood by the foot of the bed and in it were all of his things. The house elves had even brought the dirty socks from under his old bed. Why hadn't they cleaned them? In the bedroom there was also a desk for him to do his homework by and when he walked through a smaller door opposite of the bed he found that he now had his own bathroom. He didn't have to share showers with anyone anymore. He had never found that very comfortable for several different reasons, but he didn't want to think about that now. It wasn't the fanciest bathroom he had seen in his life, but it was private and that was really all he could ask for.  
  
He went back out to the living space and looked around once more. The walls were a bit empty, but that could be remedied fairly easy. All in all he was pretty happy with the rooms, even though they didn't have the most preferable location.  
  
He didn't have anything in particular to do, so he just sat down on the couch for a while, but that got boring pretty quickly so he decided to go out for a fly. He grabbed his broom and went out the portrait hole. He had just gotten a few paced down the corridor when he heart someone calling for him. This someone had a very squeaky voice. It was the portrait. Harry went back to the painting and looked questioningly at it.  
  
"How come you've moved down here anyway?" It asked.  
  
"I. Well, it's a long story and I really don't feel like talking about it right now. It's very miserable, at least from my point of view and I've had enough of that for one day."  
  
"Hey, I didn't mean to offend you." The painting said in a defensive tone.  
  
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way at all, I'm just tired. I was going to go flying, it usually clears my mind. Maybe we could talk when I come back." Harry had to admit he was curious about his door watch. Who was this person and what had he done to end up down here? The dungeons wasn't exactly a nice place and there weren't much people down there to talk to either, and the portrait seemed to be fairly social.  
  
"Sure we could. I could tell you my story if you don't want to tell me yours." As if it had read his mind.  
  
"See you in an hour or so then."  
  
Outside on the courtyard Harry kicked off from the ground and flew straight up towards the sky. He loved flying as high as he possibly could. It gave him a sense of freedom he had never been able to get anywhere else. It was very cold up there on the clear winter day so he decided to go a bit lower. He dived near the edge of the lake and turned his broom to upright position just before he hit the icy surface. He raced so fast the wind screamed in his ears just above the lake until his face was numb, then he rose a couple of feet and took it a bit slower. He loved looking at the world from above. The castle looked fantastic from the sky, especially covered in sparkling white snow. Everything seemed so peaceful, almost like a muggle painting, completely still.  
  
Harry hadn't expected it to be so cold outside and after only half an hour of flying he thought his ears was going to fall of from the cold and he couldn't feel most of his fingers and toes. He landed on the courtyard and went in to the warm castle. Once inside he couldn't see a thing, his glasses were covered with mist. He wiped them off with the hem of his robes, but it didn't help. The mist was back as soon as he had put them on again. He just had to wait for it to go away by itself. If Hermione had been there she had surely known some neat spell to keep his glasses from getting misted in the first place, but she wasn't. She was probably in the Burrow with all the Weasleys having a wonderful Christmas. She and Ron would probably be even tighter when they got back and Harry would be stuck down in the dungeons with what? A portrait that was checking him out and Professor Snape. The flying hadn't made him feel any better today; it seemed to have made him worse. Or maybe it wasn't the flying, it could be that he was all alone in Christmastimes, that his only living relatives had died and that he was going to take lessons with Snape. It didn't exactly make way for happiness.  
  
Harry was about to go straight in to his rooms when he remembered his promise to the portrait. The problem was that the portrait wasn't in his frame. That meant he couldn't go to his rooms either. He had no one to give the password to. He called for the portrait a few times, but nothing happened. He didn't want to sit in the corridor and wait so he thought he could go ask Snape when the lessons were going to start and tell him the new password, not that that would be any use when the portrait wasn't there. He went up to Snape's door, but hesitated just before he was about to knock. What would he say? Would it really be smart to bother the man? Maybe he should just go to Dumbeldore instead, but Dumbeldore was very busy, he had said so himself. He knocked. Snape opened.  
  
"Yes, Mister Potter. What is it?" He looked very annoyed. He scowled.  
  
"I was just wondering when the lessons is going to start and I wanted to tell you that I changed the password to my rooms." He said very quickly. For some reason he became nervous in front of the Potions Master, he always had.  
  
"Eager to start are you? I'll send word for you sometime tomorrow afternoon, Make sure you're available, there will be no second chances." Snape looked Harry straight in the eyes and Harry could not do anything but look back. If he turned away he would loose, he had played this game with Dudley won. When he looked away first Dudley had hit him really hard right in the chest. He continued looking.  
  
"The password?" Snape said and continued looking.  
  
"Disappear." Harry replied. They just stared for a few moments more before Snape told Harry to expect him sending for him the next afternoon. The closing door broke their eye contact. No one had lost, yet.  
  
Harry went back to the empty frame watching his rooms, not letting him in. This was hopeless he thought. He had to talk to the portrait about not leaving the frame unless it was an emergency, he needed to be able to get in to his rooms whenever he wanted to. Just as he was about to leave the dungeons he saw out of the corner of his eye how something in the painting changed. He heard some loud breathing and the rustling of moving fabric. He turned to look at the painting and indeed, there the portrait was.  
  
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry I kept you waiting," it said when it saw Harry "I just didn't think you'd be back so soon." It looked genuinely apologetic.  
  
"It's all right, but I would prefer if you didn't do it again." Harry said, trying to look annoyed. "Where were you?" The painting seemed to blush and looked down on his out-of-picture feet.  
  
"Well, I ehrm. was visiting a friend, we hadn't seen each other in quite a long time and I lost track of time." It almost stuttered a bit.  
  
"I was early, but I had expected you to be here." Harry replied excusing himself and at the same time blaming the portrait for not being there. He was still in a bad mood, but he was also curious about the portrait. He decided to ask.  
  
"So, do you still want to tell me your story?" The portrait stopped blushing and looked a lot brighter.  
  
"Of course I will." it said, "Although I do hope you have an open mind." It smiled nervously. Harry was puzzled, whatever did the picture mean by that? And he did, didn't he?  
  
"I guess." He answered.  
  
"Well, I'll just start then." The portrait said. "My name is Samuel Mc Gonogal and when this portrait was painted I was 23 years of age." Harry had to interrupt him, now he knew whom the portrait, Samuel looked like.  
  
"Mc Gonogal, as in professor Mc Gonogal? Are you related to her?" He asked quite surprised.  
  
"Yes, I am her nephew." Samuel was about to continue telling his story when Harry interrupted him with more questions.  
  
"Then how come you ended up down here, I mean, why aren't you hanging closer to her office or rooms?"  
  
"We. had a little family quarrel about certain. habits of mine. We don't get along very well, but I will come to that if you let me continue my story." He looked a bit accusing, but in a quite playful way.  
  
"Right, sorry. Please continue."  
  
"As I said, I was twenty three when this portrait was made and that is how far I can tell you my story with accuracy. I haven't really kept up with what the 'real' me have been doing since, so as you understand we have to start a bit earlier than that.  
  
The right place to start might be when I got my Hogwarts acceptance letter. I was eleven like everyone else is and was and I was overcome with joy and excitement like most kids. I had grown up in a big house as the only child in the family and it got quite lonely from time to time. Going to school and meeting other kids was like a dream to me. You see, my father, Minerva's brother was a very stern man. If you think Minerva is stern you should have met my father.  
  
Anyway, I loved it at Hogwarts and I always stayed for Christmas and Easter even though I had somewhere to go home to and I was very reluctant to leave even for summer break. I just loved this place, I still do. I was sorted into Ravenclaw, which was a bit of a surprise for the family, who had always been predominantly Gryffindor. I spent a lot of time in the library both at home and in school and I didn't have many friends, I didn't feel I needed them that much, I had my books and my imagination. I was definitely a dreamer.  
  
In fourth year I think it was I realized that the other boys in the dormitory started talking about other things than pranks, quidditch and candy. They had discovered that the opposite sex had a certain appeal and I had totally missed it. I was stuck in my books and studies and thought them quite silly for always paying attention to such trivial things. Have in mind that I had by this time in my life read more than the average adult had and I knew very well what was happening when boys hit puberty. I just couldn't see it happening to me and I didn't think more of it. I kept in the library or some other place quiet most of the first four years of my schooling. It was quiet at home too, but it wasn't the same kind of quiet, I couldn't seem to find the same sort of peace there as in Hogwarts. It's just something special to find somewhere private in a building that holds more than 1500 school kids." At this point Harry smiled and nodded in recognition.  
  
"In the end of my fifth year though I started to feel a bit left out. I was the boy who was always considered to be an oddball or just plain strange. I didn't have any close friends, but I didn't have any enemies either. Anyhow, I was starting to feel a bit lonely, so I tried to make contact with some of my classmates. Strangely enough I had most success among the girls. The thought I was adorable with all my dreaminess and distance from the world. They said I lived in my books, which partially I did.  
  
Eventually the inevitable happened and one of the girls fell in love with me, I didn't look that bad after all and she was rather pretty so I decided to give it a go. I think her name was Sophia. We mostly held hands and did some kissing every once in a while, which I thought was very nice. The summer between fifth and sixth year I invited her home to our big house for a week. We had a great time, but we came to the conclusion that we would be better off as friends. Neither of us was really prepared to go beyond kissing and we didn't do much girlfriend-boyfriend stuff together anyway. We stayed friends throughout all of school, but I have no idea of what became of her when we quit.  
  
We could however talk about most things with each other and she was the first person to know the only really big secret that I have ever had. Are you sure you are open-minded Harry, because I'm about to spill the beans here." Samuel said all of a sudden. He looked inquiringly at Harry and having a feeling about where this was going said that, yes, he definitely was. The portrait continued his story.  
  
"Okay. You see, I had, without really knowing how, fallen into some kind of love or lust with a person in the year above me, which was seventh since I now was in the sixth. She noticed of course that I had my eyes on someone, she just didn't know who it was. She tormented me for weeks about it, but I wouldn't tell her because I thought she wouldn't want me to be her friend if she found out who it was. I thought she would think I was disgusting, or even worse hate me for it.  
  
Eventually though, being a clever girl she figured out who it was, a boy named Timothy Newton, present captain of the Slytherin quidditch team. She told me everything was quite all right and that she actually had suspected me being gay for some time. I couldn't understand how for the life of me, I thought I had been hiding my feelings so well and if I thought her repelling me would be bad, it was noting towards her trying to find me a boyfriend. She actually went as far as setting up a support group for lost gay wizards and witches just so I could get in contact with others who felt the same way. It was all quite the spectacle, but it worked. I got my first boyfriend through that support group and even though it was a very awkward relationship it gave my self-esteem a boost.  
  
After that I had some pretty nice relationships, but I don't think I ever really fell in love with anyone. I finished school single and went off into the wide world with an open mind and an open heart. I set out to see all of it, everything that was worth seeing I wanted to see.  
  
I had been travelling around, staying only a short while in every place when I met a boy in India called Robert. He was English like me and later on I found out that he too was gay. We travelled together for quite some time before we realized we had fallen in love with each other. My life couldn't have been any better, I was doing what I loved most, which was travelling, with someone I loved and who loved me back. I was young, just turned twenty, and I thought we had the whole world before our feet. For another year or so, maybe more, we roamed the world.  
  
One day Robert told me he wanted to go home to see his family and that he wanted me to go with him. I was overjoyed, he really loved me and he wanted me to meet his family. Everything was great. His family was great. They welcomed me with open arms and took me in like a son of their own. They were completely okay with Robert being gay and, well, they were just fantastic.  
  
I however wasn't sure of how my family would take the news of me being gay. They had always been conservative. Now, my family at this moment consisted of my mother, my father and Minerva, who was my father's younger sister. Minerva didn't yet work at Hogwarts and therefore she lived in the big house with us. My mother was the quiet type and my father was lord and master of the property. Minerva was just there at the moment and she was probably my favourite person in the household.  
  
But anyway I thought we might as well give my family a try. I was fairly sure of myself and I was fairly sure that my mother wouldn't disagree and if she did, she would never say so. Minerva had always been kind to me and I didn't thing she would like me less because of my sexuality. It was my father that I was unsure of, but I though I would just have to find out what he thought when I told them all.  
  
So I just went into the house one Saturday afternoon, hand in hand with Robert and told the he was my boyfriend and that we were very much in love. My father threw a fit. He was absolutely outraged; no son of his should be a fucking fairy, to use his exact words. He practically threw Robert out of the house and locked me up in my room. I cried and cried until my mother came up with some food for me later in the evening, then I cried some more. I couldn't understand how someone so close to me as my own father could be so cruel, I had never really experienced homophobia before and I was in a state of shock. I think I cried myself to sleep that night. In the morning it was Minerva who came to me with breakfast. She listened to me and she comforted me in her own subtle manner and it was good to know that someone was there to do that, although she didn't once mention Robert or my sexual orientation.  
  
Eventually I came out of my room, but I didn't talk to my father. My mother and I didn't talk much either. Our communication mostly consisted of her looking at me with compassion in her sad eyes. When Minerva, later that year left to work as a teacher at Hogwarts living under the same roof as my father became unbearable so I just left. First I thought of seeking out Robert again but I changed my mind, He would be better off with someone else, I thought.  
  
I got myself a small apartment in London and I took a job in Diagon Alley as a clerk in a small supply store called 'Miranda's'. It was there that I got the idea for this portrait. I thought it would be a fitting birthday present for my mother. I knew I would never go back to that house and I knew she'd probably never leave it. What better then, than to sent her a portrait of me to remind her that I loved her. I thought it would be the next best thing to having me there in person. Apparently my father didn't like the thought as much. He positively hated the portrait and he would not have it hanging in his house, so my mother gave it to Minerva on one of her visits, because she didn't want to throw it away.  
  
Now, to start out with I did hang in her chambers here at Hogwarts, but not for very long. I had by now noted that she seemed quite content with not mentioning my sexuality or anything that would lead to the subject and I was curious to why. So one evening I very boldly asked her about it. At first she didn't want to answer me, but I eventually got her to confess that she didn't like it and from there on I only made it worse. I wanted to know why and she said it was unnatural. Then all hell broke loose. I started lecturing her about human rights and every ones equal value and she countered by moving me down in the dungeons. And that's pretty much it. I have been here ever since."  
  
"You've had one hell of a life." Harry stated simply. He didn't really know what else to say. He wasn't sure about how much he wanted to tell Samuel about himself, but there was quite a lot in his story that Harry could relate to quite easily.  
  
"Yeah, you could say that. So you don't think I'm a freak or anything, like the rest of the world seems to do." Samuel looked a bit worried.  
  
"No, I don't." Harry said with a slight smile. "I know exactly how you must have felt." The portrait's expression changed from worried to curious and Harry decided that it couldn't hurt to tell him just a little bit.  
  
"Well, I've gone through similar things." He said.  
  
"Meaning?" Harry knew Samuel knew what he meant, but he spelled it out for him anyway.  
  
"Meaning that I'm gay too and that my family didn't take it very well." He remembered being discovered by Dudley while kissing his boyfriend goodbye not far from Privet Drive and he remembered the hell that had broken loose when he got home and his cousin had told aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon. It was a memory he tried very hard not to think about.  
  
"You are? I could never have guessed." Samuel sounded genuinely surprised, although he probably wasn't.  
  
"Actually, you are the first person I have told by myself and you are the only person here at Hogwarts that knows." Harry felt a bit sad when he said this. Was he really that alone? Had he no one he could confide in? Maybe he could tell Hermione, but the Ron would find out sooner or later and Harry wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.  
  
"Wow, so this is kind of big to you, isn't it? Telling me and all, I mean. Why did you do it?"  
  
"I guess it is, but I had to tell someone sooner or later, hadn't I? And you seemed like a good person to start off with, at least you won't be mad at me or laugh at me because you have been through the same thing. It was an easy decision really."  
  
"I see your point, I probably would have done the same thing." Harry decided he liked his doorkeeper and that he really would like to talk some more with him later on, but all he wanted to do now was to go inside and take a long shower and then go to bed. It had been a tiring day.  
  
"I think it is time for me to go inside now." He said.  
  
"Yes, you do that, but before you go I would like to know your name." Samuel smiled.  
  
"Of course. It's Harry Potter." Harry now expected the worst. What would he do if Samuel knew who he was and decided that some gossip about the Boy Who Lived was in order. The whole school would know in a matter of hours, not that it had many residents now over Christmas, but everyone would find out when they got back.  
  
"Hmm, It's vaguely familiar, but I can't seem to remember quite how just now. You care to tell me why I have a feeling that I should know who you are?" The portrait looked puzzled.  
  
"Another day Samuel, some day less eventful." He said with a smile of relief. It felt good not to be recognized. To Samuel he was still just Harry Potter. "Then maybe I will tell you. Now let me in."  
  
It was still early when Harry went to bed that evening. It had after all been a hard day. All that had happened had not yet had time to sink in. It took quite a while before he fell asleep, mostly because of the events of the day. He went through it all in his head over and over again. The Dursleys were gone and so was Sirius. He had been gone for almost two years now, but Harry still remembered the day he died like it was yesterday. He thought about the occlumency lessons and what it would mean taking them up again. It would definitely mean more work on top of what he already had from his regular classes and less time to figure out a way to get rid of Voldemort. He still couldn't understand that he was all alone now. He didn't want to believe that now that Ron and Hermione had each other they would probably forget about him. As he went through it all for the third time he was very close to crying, but he promised himself that the next time he cried it would not be out of unhappiness or misery.  
  
And then there was the story Samuel had told him. It had been such a relief to know there was someone else at Hogwarts he could talk to because he really didn't want to bother Dumbeldore with his love life, or lack thereof. Samuel seemed like a nice guy and Harry could see himself actually talking freely to him one day. It was just too bad he was a portrait and not a real person.  
  
The next day all Harry did was wait for Snape. He was really nervous about the lessons, he remembered how poorly he had done the last time and he wondered how in Merlin's name he was going to do any better this time. Maybe if he had read up a bit on the subject, but it was to late for that now and where would he find the books for that anyway? They would surely be in the restricted section and Madam Pince wouldn't let him just waltz in there without permission. Maybe he could ask Snape if he had any books he could borrow, if he dared. Harry wasn't sure, even with all his Gryffindor spirit that he had the courage to do that. He had the feeling that if he upset Snape the least, there would be no lessons. But to ask for books was a good thing, wasn't it?  
  
Lunch wasn't any more exciting than any other day. Snape wasn't there and the food tasted good as usual, only this particular day everything seemed to go in slow motion. It was almost as if time had stopped and it made Harry very restless. He went back to his rooms and tried to sit down and just take it easy for a while, but that didn't work out. He tried reading a book in front of the fireplace and when he had read the same three sentences at least five times without understanding what he read he gave up. Why did this have to be such a big deal? It shouldn't be, for God's sake, it was Snape and it wasn't the end of the world if he didn't get the lessons. He would just have to think of some other way to keep the Dark Lord from his dreams. That's exactly what he'd do, he didn't Ineed/I Snape. He realized he was pacing around the sofa and that he had become rather sweaty, whether it was from the nervousness or from the pacing he didn't know. Anyhow, he decided to take a shower. Maybe that would consume some of the seemingly endless wait till "sometime in the afternoon" whenever that was.  
  
He looked at his wristwatch before he took it off and stepped into the shower. It was a bit after three pm and Harry realized that Snape could step into his rooms any minute now. Three pm was definitely classified as afternoon. He washed himself as quickly as he could, he didn't bother to shampoo his hair, put on a towel and went to his trunk to find something to wear. He grabbed a pair of jeans that had a decent fit and an old Harley Davidson t-shirt he had got from Sirius. He put on the jeans and went to the living room to get his glasses, t-shirt in hand and water still clinging to his now shoulder-long hair. He found them on the little table beside the sofa; on top of the book he had tried to read earlier. He put them on and realized he was not alone in the room. Professor Snape stood on the other side of the room, like he just had gotten through the door.  
  
Harry quickly put on his t-shirt and dropped his glasses in the process. Fortunately they didn't break and he bent down to pick them up. How embarrassing, to just walk around half naked not noticing that Snape was there. What would he think? Harry hoped the Professor wasn't offended and started to excuse himself.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't hear you come in. I was in the shower." He said hesitantly.  
  
"I'm rather surprised that you're here at all, Potter, you usually don't mind being late." The Professor's voice was like stone. Harry suddenly became angry, why did the man always have to mock him, where did all that malice come from? And besides, how could he possibly be on time today when he didn't know when on time was? It was just luck that he had been in his rooms when Snape got there. He quickly changed the subject to keep his anger from showing.  
  
"Is there anything apart from my wand that I need to have for the lesson?" He asked. He kept his voice steady and tried to control himself. That was after all what the occlumency lessons were about, to learn how to control one's emotions and to keep them from surfacing while facing the enemy. Maybe Snape was provoking him on purpose to make it harder for him to control his feelings when the lesson started. Harry decided that he would try his hardest not to give him that satisfaction. He would not fail. 


	2. Tearing Down Walls

Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the plot. JK Rowling owns the characters; except for those I have created. I don't make any profit from this and I really don't own anything that belongs to JK Rowling.  
  
Warning: This story contains slashy elements. If that offends you I suggest you leave. If you don't know what that means, I suggest you find out and come back when you have if it is something that appeals to you.  
  
Disappearing  
  
-Chapter two, Tearing down walls-  
  
Harry followed Snape through the dungeons once more. This time they were going to the classroom where the occlumency lessons were to be held. He had never been in this part of the dungeons before either. He had never imagined they were so big, there seemed to be no end to them and he wondered how on earth (or below it) he was going to find his way back after the lesson and even worse, find the classroom again for the next one. Suddenly Snape stopped in front of a murky wooden door. He took out a key from a fold in his robe and unlocked it. Apparently it wasn't magically sealed like most of the doors in the castle were. Maybe it didn't need magical locks, surely not many people would find and open it anyway. Snape went through the door and Harry followed him.  
  
A smell of old hit Harry when he stepped into the room. It smelled like he imagined a damp cave would smell, with some hints of mouldy wood and long ago forgotten books and parchments consumed by moist. There were almost no furniture in the room apart from an old desk and a few chairs. There were magically lit torches on the walls and the floor seemed to have been swept recently even though there were still lots of dust in the corners. A few books lay open on the desk and next to them stood a pensieve. Harry guessed it was the very same pensieve he had looked in to in his fifth year and seen his professor's worst memory. It had been a very disturbing experience, none the less when Snape had caught him in the act of doing so, but the memory itself had many times run through Harry's mind accompanied by curiosity and a sense of disappointment. The whole image he had had of his father had been razed that evening and his understanding and sympathy for Snape had grown. He hadn't thought his father had gained popularity by humiliating others and it hurt him to see something like that. Yet he found himself wanting to see more, not necessarily of his father, but of the young Snape. He wanted to see why he had become who he was. He found himself longing to look into the pensieve again to see if there would be more to see. Then Snape spoke.  
  
"This will be the classroom in which your schooling in occlumency will take place. I hope you paid attention on the way here because you will have to find your way here by yourself the next time. I do not have time to be your guide." Snape said.  
  
"Yes, sir." Harry tried not to let his irritation shine through. He clenched his teeth and waited for the Professor to continue.  
  
"I hope you have had the brains to at least remember some of the things you learned the last time lessons such as these were given to you. It will make things easier for both you and me, meaning that we can move on to the practical part faster." Snape showed no emotions that Harry could read, he just seemed very methodical. "Can you explain to me briefly what occlumency is?"  
  
"Yes sir. Occlumency is the defensive counter towards legilimency, it's Latin for conceal mind. A person who is skilled in occlumency is called an Occlumens. " Harry hoped that was enough of an answer because he wasn't sure if he could give a very elaborate explanation right now, not without having read up on the subject.  
  
"So, you're not a complete imbecile. Now, try to clear your mind of all emotion." Snape's eyes on his felt like they were digging into his mind already and Harry started getting nervous. He felt at that moment that this would be much harder than he had ever imagined. He tried to rid himself of emotions, but it was so hard. How do you think of noting? Is it possible to not think of anything at all, he wondered. Maybe it would work if he found something that he was indifferent to the he could think about, something that didn't stir up any emotions, but what would that be? Almost everything he could think of was bringing out some or another emotion that he had to fight away. He couldn't think of anything that involved the Dursleys without feeling angry and sad at the same time. The same thing happened when he thought of his friends and Sirius was not even an option. He tried to think of common things that he thought didn't mean anything, but he found that they all did mean something in their own way. They could always be associated with something that provoked stronger emotions out of him. Finally he settled on just trying to be as free of emotion as possible, but with yesterday's events he found that very hard. He gave Snape a curt nod and raised his wand to show him that he was ready. The older wizard threw the spell at him.  
  
"Legilimens." Harry's knees started to buck as he felt the spell pierce through his defences. He fought to stand upright; actually he focused all his power on doing that. He straightened his legs again and looked up at Snape. That was a mistake. If he hadn't looked up he hadn't came into eye contact with the Potions master. Apparently eye contact made it much easier for the aggressor to succeed in his task and Harry knew he had lost it. He had been so close to succeeding. Memories of his childhood flooded him. He saw himself being pushed down the stairs by Dudley and the locked in the cupboard by Uncle Vernon for making too much noise. He saw the dementors come towards his cousin on privet drive and then he saw them again trying to give Sirius the kiss. He felt his knees hit the floor and suddenly the world became clear again. He saw Snape looking down on him and he saw the flickering torches on the walls. He felt dizzy and exhausted, but he felt that it had gone better this time than when he was exposed to the same spell in his fifth year. He stood up and waited for Snape's judgement.  
  
"You lost it." He stated rather coldly. "Why?" Harry had to think and collect himself for a while. He took a breath and answered.  
  
"I think it was when I looked you in the eyes. That makes it easier for you to get into my mind doesn't it?"  
  
"Yes it does, but the last time we did this I didn't even need to look you in the eyes for you to give in. How come you managed to hold out this time? Do you remember what you did to keep your emotions from taking over?" Did Snape seem nicer or was it just him, Harry thought.  
  
"I concentrated on standing upright and when I thought I could do that I looked up and then I lost it. I guess there wasn't room for any emotion, I really had to give it all I had not to fall on my face."  
  
"So your concentration on not falling on you face, as you so elegantly put it, kept your emotions away and me out of you mind, correct?" Maybe it was just him. Harry nodded. He didn't quite see what Snape was getting at.  
  
"Do you think you could figure out what the key word here is, or do I have to point it out to you?" It definitely was just him. He thought for a bit, he hesitated once and then he answered.  
  
"Concentration. If I concentrate on something else hard enough it will push away the emotions." What if he was completely off here? Snape would laugh so hard.  
  
"Even Longbottom could have figured that out, but it's right none the less. The key to becoming a good Occlumens is concentration and complete discipline of oneself." Discipline and concentration, what was he supposed to concentrate on when he didn't have to worry about falling and would he always have to fight so stand up when exposed directly to Legilimens?  
  
"Sir?" Harry said.  
  
"Yes Potter?" Snape sounded very annoyed.  
  
"Will I learn to be more resistant to the spell the more I practice? I mean, I don't want to have to fight to be able to stand straight if it is thrown at me in a situation that isn't for educational purposes."  
  
"Yes you will become more resistant as you learn how to screen your emotions off. It will come automatically in the process. You are vulnerable to Legilimens now because you have no control over what you feel and when you feel it, because you are easily provoked." Was he really that easy to provoke, that easy to read. He probably was. He wasn't used to hiding his feelings and he had always been the honest type. It was only lately that he had hidden something that mattered, his sexuality, from the people around him and he didn't even know if that went any good. But they would have said something if they wondered, wouldn't they? He was becoming worried and insecure only from the things that went on in his head. He had to work on this. He didn't want to be the one responsible for even more deaths. "Do you understand?" Came Snape's voice.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Very well then, Legilimens." The spell came at Harry with more force this time it seemed, maybe because he wasn't entirely prepared for it. He felt his knees buck again and he tried with all his might to stand straight. He got his knees right after what seemed like an eternity, but then his back couldn't take the pressure and against his will, it bent forward. He struggled to get it straight, but it just kept bending further and further down, why was this happening? What was he doing wrong? He gave it one last go and pushed up with all he had. Slowly his back straightened out and he was standing upright. He remembered not to look at Snape this time, instead he looked at the wall behind him, tracing the cracks in the old rocks. He felt his concentration slipping and he could almost feel the moment his professor got into his mind. He tried to close it and shut him out again, but it just wasn't possible. Soon enough he felt how he fell backwards and landed on the floor, his memories flooding freely between him and Snape.  
  
Dudley was chasing him over the lawn with a big stick, hitting him with it every now and then. He heard Uncle Vernon screaming at him from the kitchen. It was dark so he must be in the cupboard, he hadn't been more than ten years old in that particular memory. He saw himself reading a big book, once again locked in the cupboard with just one tiny candle to light the small room. Then came the more horrible memories. He saw Cedric again, like he always did in his dreams and he felt that awful feeling of horror he always did and he wondered if Snape could feel it too. He saw how Bella Lestragne killed his godfather and he felt the utter despair and disbelief all over again. He felt tears running down his cheeks and now he was furious. He didn't care if it would ruin his resistance towards the spell; he just wanted it to stop. In one last attempt he tried to fire a disarming spell towards Snape. It hit the desk instead and it was shoved against the wall behind it. The things that had been lying on it went in all directions as the desk broke in half. The memories stopped flooding over him and he just lay back on the floor, panting.  
  
"Mister Potter" Snape said, his voice trembling a bit, probably from the intensity of the spell. "You are not to be destroying furniture and you are supposed to be trying to control your feelings." Harry wiped his face clean from tears and rose to his feet again. He didn't bother to answer the professor's reprimands at once.  
  
"Sir," He said instead. "Can you feel what I feel when you see the memories that are coming through?" His voice sounded broken and raspy from having cried, but he didn't care.  
  
"A fraction of it, yes, but not as strong as you are perceiving them." Harry thought Snape's expression had softened a bit; it now looked more thoughtful than usual.  
  
"Then you must know that this is not easy for me. I try the hardest I can and I really want to get it right this time." He took a deep breath. "I don't want to loose anyone else." He said quietly. He wondered if Snape had heard it, but he thought he had.  
  
"Very well, Potter. We shall continue your lessons on Tuesday, I expect you to be her at ten o'clock sharp. I also expect you to practice clearing your mind from any emotion every evening before you go to sleep. Is that clear?" The lesson was over then. It hadn't been that bad and Snape didn't seem to be in an awfully foul mood. Should he dare ask if he could have some books on the subject? He decided to take the chance, what could possibly be wrong with that?  
  
"Yes sir." He hesitated. "Sir?"  
  
"Yes Potter."  
  
"I was wondering if you know of any books that I could read, I mean on occlumency." That sounded stupid, but why did he care about that. It was Snape for Merlin's sake, why was he so nervous around the man?  
  
"Since when did you read anything apart from quidditch magazines Potter?" He should have seen that one coming. He was prepared to walk out the door when Snape continued. He had somehow managed to get a piece of paper from somewhere and was now writing on it with a feathered quill. "Give this to Madam Pince in the library and she will get the appropriate books for you." Harry took the paper from Snape's hand and looked at the title written there. Some of them sounded interesting, while others made him want to fall asleep right on the spot. He was surprised there were so many of them, but at least he had gotten what he asked for. There was a small note for the librarian at the top of the note, telling her that Harry had Snape's permission to get these books from the restricted section, but only those books. The professor's rather elegant signature was written at the bottom of the page.  
  
"Thank you sir." Harry said. "I'll be going then." He turned and walked towards the door. He wasn't sure he'd be finding his way back to his room on the first try, but he didn't want to bother the professor further in risk of annoying him. He was about to open it and step out into the corridor when he felt Snape's hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked at him questioningly.  
  
"You'd better follow me back, the headmaster wouldn't be happy with me if he lost his golden boy." He said sarcastically. Harry shuddered, it was almost as if he could read his thoughts. "I noticed you didn't pay much attention on the way here, much like always." But the again, the man was a spy and probably very good at noticing little things like that. Silently Harry tailed Snape as the older man started to walk down the corridors back to the more commonly known parts of the dungeons.  
  
Harry took a quick detour to his rooms before he went to the Great Hall for dinner. The food smelled delicious and he realized as soon as he started eating that he was starving. Although he didn't fail to notice that Snape wasn't there. It was often that the potions master wasn't eating with the rest of the staff. Did he eat in his own quarters or maybe he didn't eat at all. Maybe Ron's theories about him being a vampire were true after all. No, they couldn't be, he wasn't allergic to daylight and Harry had seen him eating a couple of times, not just very often. He finished his meal and went to the library to get those books, or at least some of them.  
  
Snape was back in his quarters, eating his dinner there like he usually did nowadays, he didn't like eating in public for some reason. The food was delicious as always, he had to give that to the house elves. He didn't manage to eat more than half of what was on his plate though, something was bothering him, something about the Potter boy. Had he suddenly gone and got himself some manners? He actually seemed determined to succeed and he had even asked for reading material. Maybe the boy had begun to see things more clearly lately.  
  
And then there was the matter of Potter's memories. It was awful what the boy had been through and it was only natural that strong feelings accompanied the memories the way they did, especially the ones that featured Diggory and his godfather. He was however surprised by the amount of negative feelings that had come through to him when he had been shown the memories from the boy's childhood. He knew the Dursleys hadn't been the best of foster parents, but the feelings of resentment and fear that came through with those memories implicated that the situation had been much worse than anyone had thought. Should he talk to the headmaster about this, or should he wait till he knew more about the situation. De decided to do the latter, it wouldn't be hard to find out what he wanted to know now that he knew what to look for if he managed to penetrate his mind. On the next occlumency lesson he would try to find out if there was anything to worry about. It might not be the most honest and moral way to do it, but after twenty ears of teaching and over ten years of being head of Slytherin he knew that talking to the boy probably wouldn't get him anywhere, especially since the boy resented him. And with that decided he went to his private potions lab to finish an order of healing potions for the infirmary.  
  
Later that evening he was grading some fifth year's essays in front of the fireplace, waiting for a fire call from his supplier of potions ingredients. The Ravenclaws weren't half bad, but the Hufflepuffs were hopeless, he'd probably have to fail at least half of them this year. He felt how his head grew heavier and heavier as the minutes ticked by and soon it was hard to even keep his eyes open. He slowly drifted off to sleep and, at least at first, a very comfortable darkness. That didn't last for long though, soon he was standing in a familiar room looking at a very familiar boy; this boy wasn't wearing a shirt. He realized it was Potter's room and he realized he was dreaming, yet he could neither move nor speak, he could only watch what was happening and hope it wouldn't take any unexpected turns. As the boy looked up at him with those oh so green eyes he knew that this couldn't end well. He didn't walk out of the room though and he didn't speak, he couldn't. Potter began to walk towards him, still not wearing a shirt, hair still wet and still not saying anything. As he came closer Severus could see the muscles moving under his skin and he realized he was feeling things that he hadn't felt in a long time, things that indeed were very peasant, but they were also things he would rather die than feel near this damned boy. His body temperature was rising as the boy came closer and when he stood so close their noses were just a few centimetres apart he felt like he was boiling. Why did this happen? Why did he dream this? Had he gone completely mad, the boy was just a boy and it was Potter for Merlin's sake! For a long while no one moved, Snape wanted to but it was like someone had put a binding spell on him. He could feel something needy and burning grow inside him and he knew exactly what it was. He was getting aroused and if it continued at this rate the dream- Potter would soon feel it digging into his hip. He tried to fight it with all his might but nothing worked. The boy moved closer and now their bodies touched. He knew the boy was going to kiss him, he knew it. He could feel it and even though his body wanted it he rejected the thought with all his soul. He tried not to look into the green eyes before him, but since he couldn't move he could neither close his eyes nor look away. He felt warm breath on his lips, it tasted like summer and warm honey and he thought he would go mad. Why was he dreaming this?  
  
A voice mercifully woke him up and he looked around a bit confused. He was breaking out in a clod sweat and he could feel he was still aroused from the dream. It was his supplier that had called. He excused himself for being asleep and the supplier told him that the order he had sent him a few days ago had come in. He was wondering whether Snape would come to the store to get the supplies or if he would like them sent to Hogwarts. Snape told him he wanted them sent as soon as possible.  
  
He was still rather groggy after the nap and the dream when he went to bed, but he didn't fall asleep for over an hour in fear of that the dream would return. He had been aroused by looking at Potter. Why? It was madness. Finally he fell asleep anyway and he didn't dream anything else, but the dream still bothered him in the morning when he awoke. He had a feeling Tuesday's occlumency lesson would be a long one, or at least a very painful one, not as painful as the dream though, but how was he supposed to be able to look at Potter now without remembering that twisted dream. It didn't even happen anything in it, nothing to talk about, one couldn't even call it a wet dream. Was it because it was Potter? Well, of course it was, he was a student and teachers weren't supposed to dream about their students, not like that and the boy was an insolent brat, he was the son of James Potter and he was most definitely straight as a broom handle.  
  
The days until Tuesday passed fairly quickly for both Harry and Severus and when the time had come for the lesson Harry was already waiting for his teacher in the classroom. He had bought along two of the books he had borrowed from the library and was sitting on the floor leaning against the back wall of the classroom when Snape entered. He looked up and put the book he was reading away. He rose to his feet and brushed off his muggle pants with his hands.  
  
"Hello Professor." He said. "The door was unlocked when I got here, I hope it's okay that I waited inside." The potions master only grumbled a bit and started to conjure a new desk from the old pieces of wood that remained of the old one. He put some papers on it and turned to Harry.  
  
"Shall we begin?" was all he said. Harry nodded, drew his wand and prepared to get hit by Legilimens. He had gotten a bit better at clearing his mind of thoughts since the last lesson; at least that's what he thought. The books had helped a lot and he wasn't as emotional this time as the last. All in all he felt pretty calm and only al little bit nervous.  
  
"Legilimens!" Snape shouted and she spell was thrown right at Harry. It was indeed harder to get into the boy's mind this time. He had actually practiced and even if he didn't admit it both to himself and certainly not to Harry, Snape was a bit impressed. The boy was a fast learner if he really wanted to. He pushed a bit more and felt that he was going to break through the mind barrier Potter had put up any minute now. Some memories started slipping through, but they were of no importance. They were normal memories of Potter and his annoying friends doing things friends do in normal memories. He pushed even harder and started to specify what memories he wanted to see a bit more. He felt a new barrier shoot up as he did this and again he saw happy memories, not that that was a bad thing, it was just a bit sickening to see a happy Potter doing happy things in the inside of his head. He didn't want him in his head any more than necessary. He thought of the dream he had had a few nights ago and for a second he lost concentration. He could feel how Potter pushed him further and further away and then he lost it completely. He had given the boy enough peace in mind to be able to throw a simple spell and the spell he had thrown was a shield spell, just as he had done in his fifth year. Snape could feel how the boy entered his mind and memories. He only let him see one tiny bit of them before he managed to throw him out.  
  
When the room came into place again they both lay on the floor looking quite exhausted. They slowly got to their feet and Snape commented on Harry's progress, it was only a word or two, but it meant quite a bit to Harry. It meant that the practice he had done actually worked and that he was making progress. He figured that those few words were all he was ever going to hear from Snape in terms of commendation, but they were there and that was good.  
  
It had felt different when Snape had tried to enter his mind this time. It had been with more determination than before. Harry hadn't felt the memories of Sirius or Cedric surfacing once, but the memories of the Dursleys had come much closer to showing, especially the bad ones. He had tried with all his might to keep them away, he had thought about things he liked, good experiences and such and then for a moment it had felt like the pressure was released. He had taken his chance then and fired the same shielding spell he had in fifth year and for a few moments he was inside Snape's mind. It was a gloomy experience; everything about Snape seemed to be. He saw one or two childhood memories from what must have been the teacher's family home and then some vague pictures of faces he didn't recognize.  
  
Then he was on the floor again and so was Snape. He stood up again a bit confused, he hadn't even noticed falling this time.  
  
"It felt different this time." He said after Snape's comment on his progress.  
  
"How so?" Had he noticed he was looking for something, Snape wondered. Could he really determine that with such an untrained mind?  
  
"Well, first of all, it wasn't the same memories as usual that came to surface and second, the spell felt like it was more determined." The boy was on to something. Would he tell him? No, it was best to deny it, he couldn't say anything. That might blow everything, but then again, what was he going to say if the boy figured it out later, tell him that he was testing him?  
  
"Well, the higher determination in the spell was because it was getting more resistance this time" that wasn't entirely untrue "and about the memories I can't tell you very much. It is an erratic spell, unless it is told what to look for it digs at random only guided by the subconscious of the thrower." He lied, but the again, that wasn't entirely untrue either. He would probably get away with it.  
  
"So what you are saying is that it's your subconscious that tells the spell what to look for if it doesn't get any specific guidelines." Harry was getting a bit worried. Snape's eyes seemed to be seeing right through his mind, they were piercing yet deep and very unreadable. "Sir." He added.  
  
"Be afraid Potter, be very afraid." Snape said smirking and then he once again threw the spell at Harry who wasn't at all as prepared this time as he had been the last.  
  
He could feel the spell piercing his mind right from the start, but he fought it for all he was worth. What Snape had told him about the subconscious of the thrower somewhat guiding the spell scared him. He didn't know how serious Snape had been about it either. He had sounded awfully sarcastic, but surely there must have been some truth behind it. So he fought, but it was a loosing battle. He could feel the spell digging in to his mind leaving the same feeling of being a bit more determined than usual this time too, only now it was having more success in breaking down Harry's defences. He could feel the memories, the more horrible ones, about the Dursleys starting to surface and he knew that if he didn't stop the spell he would relive them all again. He didn't want that, so he fought, but the spell had gone too far already. The memories flooded him and he could feel the tears burning in his eyes. He could almost feel the pain all over again when he relived the first time his uncle had beaten him up and he could feel the guilt as strong as ever when he was forced to agree with some of the crude and dehumanising things Dudley said about gays almost daily.  
  
Again he tried to fight the spell off, but failed. The memories that surfaced became more and more personal, but he didn't know how to stop it. He was ready to go down on his knees and beg Snape to stop when it happened. Te memory he had tried hardest to conceal began to replay himself in his head and he knew Snape could see it too.  
  
He saw himself walking beside an ash blonde boy, quite tall with blue eyes and black leather pants. He felt that joyous feeling of being in love as they slowly walked towards the playground. They didn't talk but every once in a while they stole a glance at each other and smiled. Halfway to the swings from the road the blonde boy took Harry's hand in his and laced their fingers together. He was so happy and in peace with himself that this was happening, it practically radiated off him and he didn't even see Dudley lurking behind one of the big trees on the other side of the playground.  
  
Once they got to the swings they faced each other and just stood like that for a long while. The blonde boy, whose name was David brushed a few strands of hair off Harry's forehead.  
  
"That's one weird scar you have there." He said.  
  
"Yeah." Harry looked down, he felt insecure talking about those things. David was a muggle that didn't know anything about the wizarding world. David took Harry's face in his hands and bought it up to his. Then he lightly kissed him on the corner of the mouth and then directly on the lips. It was pure joy; it was nothing like the kiss he had shared with Cho. It was soft and warm and not very wet at all, just very nice.  
  
"I'm so glad I met you." He said when the kiss ended. They kissed again and then they parted. Harry began to walk home to the Dursleys and David went in the opposite direction, towards the nearby buss station. What Harry hadn't noticed was that Dudley had managed to get home before him.  
  
When he opened the door to the house the whole family was lined up in the hallway. After that came the worst screaming match Harry had ever experienced in his life. He had never been so humiliated in his life and it had been the first time in years that he had cried in front of the Dursleys. It had only been tears of anger, but they earned him comments like:  
  
"Ooo, the poor little fairy is crying, hasn't he gotten enough fist today?"  
  
"Crying like a baby. Well if you're looking for someone to come and save you, don't expect any help from your fag friends, they're all just one big sign of weakness!"  
  
And on it went, on and on till Harry couldn't take it anymore and tried to run to his room, only to be stopped in front of the stairs by Dudley punching him right on the nose. The beating went on from there till Harry had no memory left of it. He cried because he was angry with the Dursleys all over again and he cried because he was furious with Snape for looking at those memories even though he must have known they were private. He must have known.  
  
He found himself on the floor again, the memories had stopped coming, but he was still sobbing like a child. He looked up at Snape and the man looked quite torn up himself. His breathing was heavy and he looked very exhausted and upset. Harry didn't care if he was as upset as he himself was, he had still gone too far, way too far.  
  
"Are you happy now?!" He yelled. "Do you think we're even now, now that you've seen my worst memory?!" He got no reply so he continued. "Why did you continue? You must have known that you were barging in on private property! Why didn't you stop? Was it because you wanted revenge? Well, then you got it now; you've certainly got it now." He trailed off and waited for a reply. None came. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door, not caring that he forgot the books or to ask when the next lesson was. He wasn't sure he wanted another lesson, not now with Snape knowing he was gay. The man would probably hate him even more for it and the humiliation would be devastating. He wouldn't be able to take it. It would break him. The tears were still running when he got to Samuel's portrait and his rooms. The portrait wondered what had happened, he really looked concerned, but Harry was in no mood to talk. He just wanted to go drown himself or something so he just said the password and demanded to be let in.  
  
It was horrible, all the things those memories had made him feel, some things new, some things all over again. He humiliation was worst. He knew he had nothing to be ashamed about, David had told him so many times even though they had only been together for a short time. The Dursleys wouldn't let him see anyone after they had found out that he was freakish in more than one way. They wouldn't let him out of the house and if they did they would watch him all the time so he didn't "try" anything, whether it was magic or one of his other abnormal activities, as they put it. Dudley had frequently accused him of "checking him out" even though that was the last thing Harry would do. That always earned him some kind of punishment and it made Dudley's eyes shine in the creepiest of ways.  
  
Harry lay down on his bed, he didn't even bother to take off his shoes and soon he fell asleep. He had been exhausted, but he didn't get any rest because nightmares woke him up every ten minutes or so. He decided to get up and do something useful instead so he went out to the living room where he lit a fire in the fireplace and started looking through one of the books on occlumency he hadn't read yet. He still wanted to continue his learning the subject, but he wasn't sure of how to deal with Snape yet. The reading got him bored and restless rather quickly though. He had too much on his mind to be able to concentrate.  
  
He decided that he needed to talk to someone about this and who better would it be to talk to than Samuel. At least he could think of no one else that wouldn't be judgemental towards him. He went out in the corridor and told Samuel he was sorry for being rude to him earlier. Then he told him the whole story about the occlumency lessons from the start to the present minute. He didn't say why he took the lessons and Sam, as Harry had taken to calling him, didn't ask.  
  
I want to give a huge hug to everyone that have reviewed this. I really appreciate it. Keep it up and I'll be even more grateful. =)  
  
Goldenpaw  
  
Thirteen Ravens  
  
crazy-lil-nae-nae  
  
Lishel Fracrium  
  
Lady phoenix Slytherin  
  
Lee Lee Potter  
  
Mikee  
  
Npeternko  
  
Azreial9621  
  
Idiotmuse 


	3. Building Bridges, Part 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the plot. JK Rowling owns the characters; except for those I have created. I don't make any profit from this and I really don't own anything that belongs to JK Rowling, really.  
  
Warning: This story contains slashy elements. If that offends you I suggest you leave. If you don't know what that means, I suggest you find out and come back when you have, if it is something that appeals to you.  
  
Disappearing  
  
-Chapter three, Building Bridges, Part one-  
  
So there he sat on the floor outside his rooms, talking to Sam when Snape rounded the corner on his way to his rooms after a quick talk with Dumbeldore. They hadn't talked about Potter, it had been about some business that had to do with his own house. He had been tempted to bring up what he had seen in the boy's memories quite a few times, but he had decided not to all of them. He didn't want to expose the boy's privacy, he wasn't really sure what to do with the information he had collected. It was fairly disturbing indeed, not that Potter was gay, but the way his family had treated him about it. It was completely unacceptable what they had done to him, no matter that he was Harry Potter, no person should be exposed to that kind of treatment. Snape had become deeply upset about what he had seen and felt while he was in the boy's mind, it still hadn't worn off completely after several hours. He silently wondered how the boy managed to cope with it all, maybe he wasn't as well as he looked. Abuse like that always left traces in one way or another. Sure, he had friends to talk to, Snape remembered, but why hadn't he come with them during the holiday, he knew they had left for the Burrow together.  
  
He managed to stop just as he rounded the corner and saw Potter sitting there on the floor. What was he doing? The boy was talking to someone, the portrait he realized. Minerva's cast away nephew. He was gay too, wasn't he? It made sense that they had become friends. Snape had talked to the portrait himself once or twice and he could see why Potter opened up to it.  
  
Slowly he backed out of sight and sharpened his ears. He wanted to hear what they were talking about. Maybe it would give him some more insight in what was going on inside Potter's head. He knew he shouldn't spy more on the boy now, he had done that enough to last a long time earlier, but he simply couldn't resist. There was something enthralling about the Boy Who Lived having secrets and problems that no one knew about. Well, almost no one. Surely he had told his little annoying friends. So he stayed behind the corner and listened to the voices that echoed clearly through the empty corridors.  
  
Harry sighed one deep sight once he had finished telling the days events to Sam. It had been exhausting reliving it again and now he was even more tired having told it to the portrait. It had felt nice to talk to someone about it though. He had never told a single soul about any of it.  
  
"So, what do you think I should do? It's not like I have anyone to talk to, I mean you're the first person I've told, voluntarily." He added with venom in his voice. Te traced the cracks in the floor with his eyes, but he looked up when Sam started to talk.  
  
"Well, you know what I did, I left the once who didn't accept me behind, but I guess that's hard for you to do. Are you sure you don't have anyone besides me you could talk to, someone a bit more, how should I put it, alive? Those friends you mentioned earlier this week, Ron and what's-her- name."  
  
"Hermione" Harry filled in. "And, no I don't think I could talk to them. They wouldn't understand, I don't even think they would accept it fully. They're so, I don't know."  
  
"Ordinary?" This time it was Sam's turn to fill in the words.  
  
"Yes, ordinary. And they're so caught up in each other that they hardly notice me anymore." Harry sighed again. He had felt so left out the days before everyone left for Christmas, it was like he had been invisible almost and he wasn't used to that. He had always had a certain amount of attention upon him all the time and then most of it had been taken away when Ron and Hermione got together. It had felt so strange, and lonely. It still did.  
  
"Can't you talk to any of the professors then?" Sam was really making an effort and Harry was grateful, but everything seemed so hopeless.  
  
"After what you've told me I clearly can't talk to Professor McGonogal about it, but since she's my head of house it's her I should be going to isn't it?"  
  
"You could go to the headmaster, he seems understanding enough."  
  
"No, I can't do that. It would have been one thing if this was something related to school or something in that direction," Harry thought about problems related to Voldemort and his dreams, but he didn't say it out loud "but it isn't and he's a busy man so I don't want to bother him if I don't have to." Sam got a look of thoughtfulness on his features for a short while and then he spoke again.  
  
"I presume it would be out of the question to talk to this Snape-person about it. It does seem like he's the only one besides me that knows the whole story. I almost have a feeling he knows more than I do, you haven't really told me that much about your life and if he's been your teacher for almost seven years he's got to know something, right?" Sam's voice was hesitant as he spoke, like he was afraid to upset Harry.  
  
"The only problem is that he loathes me. He absolutely hates me and he probably does so even more now that he knows about this whole thing." It was hopeless, it really was. Talking to Snape, not even if he got paid for it, Harry thought.  
  
"How can you be so sure of that? How much do you really know about him anyway?" I know enough, was Harry's first thought, but after that he just kept repeating that last question Sam had asked in his head. How much did he really know about Snape? Not much, was it? He knew he had been a Death Eater and that he now was a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. He knew that he was damned good at potions and that he had been bullied in school, by James Potter none the less. Other than that he didn't know much and it left an awful lot to the imagination. The questions were rising in number faster than he could count. He realized he knew nothing about Snape that could be considered important in terms of knowing someone as a person.  
  
"Well?" Samuel asked.  
  
"I don't know that much actually, just bits and pieces but I don't really know anything important. I realized that just now." Samuel was going to talk him into talking to Snape, he knew it. This was going to turn out in disaster.  
  
"Then how can you be so sure he hates you?"  
  
"I knew you were going to ask that." Harry said accusingly. "He's just so mean to me, he always has been, I think it has to do with my father, they weren't exactly friends." Harry trailed off.  
  
"So he doesn't like you because of your father, huh? Are you sure it isn't your father that he dislikes and not you?"  
  
"He seems to think we're one and the same person." Harry sighed again. "But I'm not my father, I don't want to be like my father. From what I've seen of him he seems to have been a complete prat." Harry almost whished Snape could hear that.  
  
Snape wanted to just stand there and listen for just a little bit longer, but he decided he had heard enough. It wasn't right to spy on Potter like that, even though it was turning out to be quite the drama. So, the boy wasn't his father, he knew that, but the similarities between them were just too many to overlook. That had begun to change over the last week though. Snape had discovered a new side to the brat and he wasn't sure he liked it. He did, however, like to see the fury in Potter's eyes every time he insulted him although the eyes was one of the things that made him different from James. That brilliant green was as far away from James Potter as you could get. He remembered the dream again. Those eyes had been so enchanting, so spellbinding, so. He stopped himself from thinking 'beautiful'. He couldn't think beautiful! It was Potter, Potter for Merlin's sake!  
  
He took the step around the corner and started walking towards the boy sitting on the floor a bit further down the corridor. He walked like he always did, robes swirling and with a scowl on his face. He stopped in front of the boy and looked down on him where he sat on the floor. The boy looked back, he didn't say anything and neither did the portrait.  
  
"I have your books in my chambers if you still want them." He said. "I do hope this little incident hasn't changed your mind about learning occlumency."  
  
Now, what did this mean, Harry thought. Did Snape just encourage him to continue studying occlumency? And there had been no snide remarks about his sexuality. Harry was confused to say the least. He stole a glance from Sam who smiled reassuringly, if only for a second and then he looked up at Snape. He didn't feel very comfortable looking up on the man, meaning that he looked down on him, so he stood up and brushed off the back of his pants.  
  
"No, professor, I haven't changed my mind and I would like to have the books back, I wasn't quite finished with them." He said.  
  
"Alright then, follow me." Snape started walking and Harry followed him. They stopped in front of Snape's chambers and Snape opened the door. He gestured for Harry to follow him inside. He had never been in any of the teachers' personal chambers before, so he hesitantly stepped through the door. It looked a lot like his own chambers at first sight, only bigger. Everything had a grander air to it, although Harry couldn't pinpoint what it was that made it look that way. The dominant colour was green, not very unexpected, but Harry still hadn't expected Snape of all people to even have a theme on his chambers.  
  
He followed his professor to the living area, equipped with a fireplace, a sofa, two very comfortable looking chairs and a small table in front of the sofa. On the floor lay a thick rug and the walls were covered with really crowded looking bookcases. The room was over all pretty dark, but the magically lit lamps on the walls gave it a comfortable feeling. Harry liked it.  
  
Snape went over to the table and picked up the two books lying on it. Harry hadn't seen them there before, but they were his books. He gave Snape a silent thanks and turned to leave again when he felt that hand on his shoulder again. It was strong, determined. He turned around and looked into two pitch black eyes.  
  
"Mister Potter," He trembled inside, he didn't know for his life how to say this to the boy. He was, however determined not to let it show. "I do hope that you understand that what happened earlier, what I saw, hasn't changed how I look upon you as a student." At least not for the worse, he thought. "I understand that those memories were private and I assure you that it won't happen again." There, now he said it. It didn't feel much better than it did before though, but nothing with Potter involved had ever been very comfortable.  
  
The boy was silent. He looked thoughtful. Why didn't he answer and what was it with that look he had in his eyes? Those damnable eyes. They looked into his own like they were trying to understand his very essence, and then they shot to the floor like arrows on fire. Did the boy blush? What was this? He was about to turn around and go to the kitchen when Potter answered.  
  
"Thank you Professor." His voice was small, he sounded so insecure, not at all like James, or the Harry Potter everyone was used to for that matter. "I." He hesitated. "I appreciate that."  
  
The boy turned to walk away once again and once again Severus decided to stop him. He just did it out of reflex, he didn't dare ask himself why because he was afraid of the answer.  
  
"Potter, one more thing." Now it was Snape's turn to hesitate. Should he really say this? "If you want to talk about it with someone who knows the whole story, I'm having dinner here at six. You're welcome to join me." At that he turned away and walked out to the kitchen. He didn't trust himself in front of the boy. He could easily hold his mask in front of any Death Eater and even the Dark Lord himself, but he just didn't seem to be able to do it now. Potter really was nothing but trouble.  
  
When he heard the door close after Potter had gone out he went back to the living area and sat down in one of the chairs. He suddenly felt exhausted, it had been a trying day in many aspects, but he had had worse and come out of it in far better condition that he was now. He had a thousand questions flying around in his head, but he decided to turn all of them off for the time being.  
  
Someone else that had a thousand questions that he wanted answered was Harry Potter, only he couldn't turn them off, so he felt like he was slowly, but surely going mad. He was walking as if in a haze and he had walked past his own door if Sam hadn't called out to him. He stopped and looked up and realized by the look on Sam's face that he must look really confused. The portrait looked very amused and yet a bit wondering. There was a slight smirk on his lips that spoke of his amusement.  
  
"How did it go?" He asked.  
  
"Well, I think, not at all as I expected." Harry sighed and realised his hands were shaking slightly.  
  
"How did you expect it to go then?"  
  
"I thought he would give me my books and then some kind of lecture or something. I'm not sure what I thought, really. Just not what happened." He tried to stop shaking, but it seemed impossible. Why did Snape make him so nervous? He wasn't afraid of the man; he hadn't been in several years, so it couldn't be that. He had been nervous to talk to him now, now though, but that had gone well. Could it be relief? But he still felt so very nervous.  
  
"What happened, then, that was so unexpected." Sam was clearly amused by the whole situation, Harry decided. For a moment he wondered if the portrait knew something he didn't.  
  
"Well, he actually apologized and then the strangest thing happened. He said that he'd listen if I wanted to talk about it and practically invited me to dinner with him tonight." Harry sighed again. "It's all so strange." It really was. Snape was being something that could be interpreted as nice and that started a conflict inside Harry. Snape wasn't supposed to be nice, he was supposed to be greasy and mean, but then again, Ron and Hermione was supposed to be his friends and he didn't know if they were anymore. He figured that if this continued he would have to re-evaluate his whole mental image of Snape. His head was spinning. He was interrupted in his thoughts by Sam asking him something again.  
  
"I'm sorry Sam, could you repeat that, I have to admit I wasn't really listening." He smiled a bit.  
  
"Are you going to go then?"  
  
"Go where?" Harry knew before he had finished saying that what the answer was going to be.  
  
"To dinner, with Snape. It couldn't hurt you know."  
  
"You don't know that, I could be damaged for life!" He said in a voice that was just slightly overdramatic. "No, but seriously, it makes me nervous just to think about it. I don't really know if I want to, or dare for that matter."  
  
"And you are calling yourself a Gryffindor! Where has all that red heated courage gone?" Now it was Sam's turn to turn dramatic.  
  
"I haven't got a clue. It seems to have been rather lost to me lately. I'm beginning to think the Sorting Hat was right when it wanted to put me in Slytherin." Harry trailed off into thought. Now that he thought about it he wasn't really feeling very Gryffindor at all.  
  
"How on earth did you end up in Gryffindor then?"  
  
"Well, I asked it not to put me in Slytherin and Gryffindor was the next best thing I presume. Kind of ironic I think, since they're supposed to be some kind of opposites."  
  
"I see, although I've never heard of the Hat giving in to anyone's wishes before. You seem to have a lot of unusual things happening to you." At that Harry felt a bit sad. He didn't want all those things to happen to him all the time.  
  
"Yeah, I guess so. I think I'm going to go inside now, think a bit about how to do with dinner tonight. I'll see you later Sam."  
  
"Sure." With that the portrait swung open and Harry stepped inside.  
  
It was around half past five when he had finally come to a decision about what to do. He figured there wasn't more time now to decide anyway. He was going to go to dinner with Snape, although he didn't like to think of it as "dinner with Snape", it sounded so serious. He could always just leave if he got mad or uncomfortable, or if Snape got mad, which was more likely.  
  
He took one last quick look in the mirror before he went outside to talk to Sam for a bit.  
  
"I've decided to go." He told the portrait.  
  
"Good for you." Sam smiled "I really don't think it could hurt you know." When he said that Sam looked really mischievous and Harry wondered what exactly it was that was so funny about him having dinner with the Greasy old potions professor.  
  
"Sam, do you know something about this that I don't?" He tried to sound serious.  
  
"What on earth should that be?" Innocent. Harry didn't think so.  
  
"By the look on your face when we talk about Snape and you seem to be really keen on me getting to know him, or whatever." Harry was getting more and more sure of that Sam was up to something.  
  
"Maybe I just think you have misjudged him." That smile again.  
  
"How?" He was getting annoyed.  
  
"You just have to see for yourself if you decide to talk to him a bit."  
  
"You sound like you know him."  
  
"I know of him." What did he mean by that? Harry gave up. He was obviously not going to get anything sensible out of Sam tonight. He was ten minutes early still but he decided to go knock on Snape's door anyway.  
  
"Bye Sam, see you later." He said and walked off towards Snape's quarters. He could feel the portraits eyes on his back and he could swear he heard it snickering to itself. He was definitely up to something.  
  
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Ok, I know this chapter is short, but I just wanted to get something up as soon as possible. I've had a lot to do lately and there hasn't been much time for writing other things that school-stuff. But anyway, thanks to everyone that has reviewed. You have really been great!  
  
RavenGirl  
  
Arili  
  
Mikee  
  
Prophetess Of Hearts  
  
LeeLeePotter  
  
GoldenPaw  
  
Minerva-SeverusDumbeldor  
  
Idiotmuse  
  
Thirteen Ravens  
  
Azreial9621 


	4. Building Bridges, Part 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the plot. JK Rowling owns the characters; except for those I have created. I don't make any profit from this and I really don't own anything that belongs to JK Rowling, really.  
  
Warning: This story contains slashy elements. If that offends you I suggest you leave. If you don't know what that means, I suggest you find out and come back when you have, if it is something that appeals to you.  
  
Disappearing  
  
-Chapter four, Building Bridges, Part two-  
  
Snape had known, or at least some part of him had, that it had a bad idea to invite the boy to dinner. It was half past five and half an hour until the house elves would arrive with the food for two and until Potter would or would not walk through his door. He was sitting like on needles and he couldn't relax. Why, oh why had he done something so stupid? He didn't know and right now he didn't care. He wanted to get it over and done with so he could go back to being mean to Potter, just like before, before these uncomfortable thoughts had occurred and before he felt like he was obligated to talk to the boy. Most of all he hoped that Potter would not walk through the door, so they both could forget something other than insults had been exchanged between them. He wasn't going to give Potter another chance to talk and he hoped dearly that Potter didn't want to talk at all. He had this strange feeling that talking would change things rather drastically, and he wasn't at all sure he liked it.  
  
He had no idea why he had a feeling like that. He was no medium and he certainly wasn't a seer, but where did it come from? He tried to tell himself it was stress and imagination. It had been a rather hard term and tutoring Potter in occlumency certainly hadn't helped.  
  
He stood up and began to walk around the apartment. He couldn't be still. He tried to lie down for a bit on the bed and just breathe and it actually helped a bit. He looked at the clock and saw that it was a quarter to six. He should probably get up. The brat could be early, why wouldn't he. He was doing the things Snape liked the least every other time he saw him, so why wouldn't he do the same thing now? Coming early really would be uncomfortable, probably for both of them because that meant they had to wait for the food for a while and there would be plenty of those uncomfortable silences, nobody like those, not even Snape.  
  
At ten to six came the knock on the door. Snape tensed and cursed himself again for being impulsive, or maybe you should call it weak, he thought. He nearly never gave in to impulses, so why had he done it this time? He growled to himself and went to open the door.  
  
Harry was standing nervously outside the Potions Master's door. What took him so long? Maybe he had come too early anyway. He shouldn't have come at all, he thought. He was about to turn around and walk back to his own rooms when the portrait swung open and revealed a sour looking Severus Snape.  
  
"Hi," Harry said and regretted it instantly. Why did he have to sound so insecure?  
  
"Mister Potter, " Snape said as if he was standing in the potions classroom and was just about to give Harry yet another reprimand. This had been a mistake. "Come in." He stepped aside to give Harry entrance to his rooms. Harry hesitantly walked past him and in to the living area. There was a fire burning in the fireplace and the room was comfortably warm. He stopped in the middle of the room, not sure of what to do. He looked around, rather fascinated at the fact that one person could own so may books, all sorts of books he noted, even a few muggle titles. Some of them he recognized and some of them he didn't.  
  
"The food won't arrive for another ten minutes," the professor's voice startled him, "but I suggest we sit down and wait for it." He gestured for the couch and the little table in front of it. Harry was a bit surprised that they didn't sit at some sort of dining table. He didn't think of Snape as a person who dined at the coffee table.  
  
"Okay," he said and sat down on the couch. Snape took one of the soft looking chairs. The silence was pressing and Harry was desperately trying to think of something to say. He wasn't usually the person to freeze in awkward situations, but this was somehow different. It was more serious than it usually was and it wasn't his friends he was going to talk to. It was Snape and by accepting his invitation it felt like he had somehow obligated himself to talk to the man. He knew he didn't have to, but he felt like it was what he was supposed to do.  
  
"I really don't know what to say," he said. At least it was a start. He had said something and now it was Snape's turn.  
  
"You don't have to say anything, but I presume that's why you came here?" There was a slight trace of sarcasm in his voice, but not enough to make Harry want to leave. He wanted there to be more sarcasm he realised. He wanted to get angry and upset so he could leave, this was just too uncomfortable. He sighed.  
  
"I really don't know why I came here," he said. "This just feels very awkward." He sighed again and wondered why he'd said that, but then again, what else was he supposed to say? He didn't look at his professor; instead he stared into the fire, following the flame's soothing movements.  
  
"I didn't expect you to come at all actually. I was rather surprised when you showed up." Snape said. Harry continued to stare into the flames and tried to think of something to reply to that. Why had he shown up?  
  
"I guess it was Samuel, the portrait outside my rooms, that talked me into going." He thought his own voice sounded distant. "And I figured things couldn't get worse." He smiled to himself and looked up at Snape. He too was looking at the fire. He looked up after a second and answered.  
  
"Meddling portrait." He mumbled but Harry heard what he said quite clearly. So the portrait and Snape had some kind of relation. His curiosity had definitely woken up now. Maybe he could talk to Snape, just so he could find out how he and Sam knew each other. "No, I don't think it could get any worse now, Potter." He sounded like he actually meant it. Did he really dislike Harry that much? Then why did he invite him? Harry's curiosity started to transform into anger.  
  
"Then why did you invite me here in the first place," he asked, his anger shining through clearly. He knew he was being almost ridiculously emotional, but he figured he had a right to be so after all that'd happened lately.  
  
"I thought you might need someone to talk to." Harry couldn't believe it. Snape sounded really innocent, if it was possible for him to do so, as if he had said nothing wrong. "I really didn't think you would come to me, I just felt it was my obligation as a teacher to offer you the opportunity to talk to someone. I figured you would go to your little friends and not to me." It was all very straightforward and professional, just a teacher doing his job, why hadn't Harry seen it before. Still, he was angry with the man and it had hurt when he mentioned Ron and Hermione, his little friends indeed. Harry really believed he couldn't talk to them; he had gone to Snape instead of owling his best friends of the last six and a half years. He really didn't think he had anyone left and that's what made him tell Snape what he told him next. He figured it really couldn't hurt him anymore than the last week already had.  
  
"I don't have anyone anymore. Ron and Hermione don't really care about me and all the family I had left is dead, Sirius is dead. Where was I supposed to go? I have talked to Samuel about stuff, but it's not really like talking to a real person, he's just a picture after all. You're the only one that's offered, to talk I mean." He stopped. He felt calm and composed. The anger was still there, but it was under control. Snape looked at him and he looked back. Their eyes met and there was no loathing, but there was no sympathy either, no feelings at all really, just searching.  
  
Their eye contact was broken by the loud pop of a house elf entering the room. Harry was almost relieved it wasn't Dobby; he found the little creature enormously annoying. The house elf carried a large tray of food and drinks. There were two plates, two glasses, two forks and two knives. Harry looked questioningly at Snape. Had he ordered two of everything just in case Harry was coming, even though he hadn't believed he would? He didn't get an answer. The elf left just as quickly as it had entered the room. Harry began to eat immediately, he was hungry and the food smelled so good. He poured himself some pumpkin juice and took a large gulp from it, almost choking in the process.  
  
"At least you still have your appetite," said Snape sarcastically. Harry definitely choked now, he felt like his lungs filled with pumpkin juice and he started to cough. He didn't know whether to laugh or get angry, so he just continued concentrating on stopping the coughing. Once he managed to get it under control and could straighten up, he looked over at his professor, who very dignified continued eating his dinner as if nothing had happened.  
  
The rest of the dinner was a rather quiet affair. Harry didn't know what to say, where to start and neither did Snape. They were both rather pleased with how the whole event had turned out though. None of them had said anything they regretted and they could just forget it had even happened afterwards. It wasn't like something like this was ever going to happen again. Snape finished his dinner a few minutes after Harry, who really did have a fierce appetite. The boy had just been looking into the fire while Severus had finished his meal and he had been very quiet, something Snape really hadn't expected the Boy Who Lived to be. He hadn't expected him to be still either and he certainly hadn't expected him to not have any friends. The boy was popular; he was considered a hero. Of course he had friends.  
  
Severus called a house elf to clean away the dishes.  
  
Severus didn't know whether to dismiss the boy not that they had eaten or if he should offer him to stay for tea. They really hadn't done much talking, but on the other hand he didn't really want the boy's company, did he? Yet once again his words did not coincide with his thoughts.  
  
"Would you like to stay for some tea, Potter?"  
  
"Yes please." When had the boy become so polite?  
  
He went to the kitchen and prepared some tea. He left Potter alone in the living room while doing so, but he needed some time for himself. He couldn't think clearly otherwise, not with the tense atmosphere that seemed to follow the boy around. He could have ordered tea from the kitchen, but he liked to prepare it himself, he got it just the way he wanted and he could add different ingredients depending on his likings. He put some tension relieving herbs in his and did the same with Potter's. They could both use all the help they could get if they were going to talk, he figured. He played with the though of putting a light truth serum in Potter's tea, but abandoned the thought pretty quickly since the boy probably would suspect that something was wrong. The lighter serums often came with a slight taste and they always made you a bit light headed. It was not a good idea, and it was probably better to let Potter speak for himself if he decided to do so.  
  
When he came back with the cups he put Potter's on the table and resumed his position in the chair he had occupied before. Potter looked suspiciously at the tea, almost as if it was going to attack him. Then he smelled it and looked a bit confused when his glasses got all foggy from the vapour that the warm tea produced.  
  
"I assure you that it's not poisoned," he said with the usual amount of sarcasm in his voice. "We are, however unbelievable it might sound, on the same side." Potter glared at him, although without effect, and took a sip from the tea.  
  
"This is good," he said. "What is it?"  
  
"Earl Grey with some slight modifications." That earned him another suspicious glare. "None of which are poisonous, I drink the same brew."  
  
This was amusing. He liked Potter glaring at him and he liked being able to make him do so. He knew somehow that the boy wasn't taking his taunting deadly serious and that was somehow more fun than if he had.  
  
"What are these modifications then?"  
  
"Nothing you have to concern your little mind with," he assured the boy with a smirk. Almost to his surprise, Potter continued drinking from the tea, he had actually expected him to not drink until he knew what was in it.  
  
"How come you drink even though you don't know what you're drinking? I could be lying."  
  
"You could, but I don't think you are. Dumbledore would be very mad with you if I got hurt. Besides, I'm not sure I care."  
  
"Care about what?"  
  
"What you put in the tea. Things can't really get worse than they already are, at least not for me, so if you are trying to poison me I think you will be the one suffering the most from it. Professor." In spite of the playfulness of the statement Severus could see the seriousness behind it. Potter really didn't care anymore, did he? Maybe, maybe not.  
  
"Rather unglamorous way to die isn't it?"  
  
"So you admit it then? Poison my tea, really professor."  
  
"Never, Potter, never. If I wanted you dead you'd be screaming in pain right now. If I'll ever try to kill you, you'll feel it." The boy actually downed the rest of the tea in one go and then he asked for more.  
  
"I liked it," he said innocently. Severus went out to the kitchen to get the teapot.  
  
Once Snape was out of sight Harry let his guard down. So far the whole thing had gone pretty well. The last fifteen minutes or so had been hard; it had been hard not to loose his mask. He had hinted a few times, rather unsubtly he thought, how he felt, in case Snape would want to talk about it. He didn't know why he'd done that. If someone would want to talk it should be him and he was not sure at all of what he wanted. So he had hinted and gone along with the conversation as it came. He had actually enjoyed the teasing and the challenging tone of it all. The sarcastic remarks and the evilness were really rather fun if you didn't take it dead serious he thought to himself. And the tea had been really good and poison tasted foul, right?  
  
Snape entered the room again, carrying the teapot with him. He refilled both their cups and sat down. The tea came from the same pot and he drank from it. There was nothing wrong with it. Harry was a bit relieved, although he tried not to admit to himself that he had actually been worried about it being poisoned. That was rather ridiculous.  
  
He felt oddly relaxed, not as tense as he had expected to feel, having tea with Snape. He actually felt like talking, not necessarily about his problems, but about anything. The only thin that kept him quiet was that he really didn't know what to talk about with his professor. What did Snape talk about, besides potions and detentions? Harry, for sure, didn't know.  
  
"So," he started, "I'm sorry for yelling at you before." He really wasn't, but he felt like he had to say something.  
  
"No, I had no right to look at those memories, I should have stopped when I saw where it was going." Was he actually apologising?  
  
"You should have," he agreed. Now he remembered why he hadn't wanted to talk about it again. It was painful.  
  
"Although I must ask. Why didn't you tell anyone about your situation at the Dursleys?"  
  
"There was nothing to tell. It was the only place I was safe and it was better that no one knew what went on. I might have told Sirius some day, but." He couldn't go on. The memory of his godfather still hurt too much. He was after all the only relative that had ever cared about him that he had gotten to know. He choked on a sob, but was determined not to start crying. There was no reason for him to cry, he had to get over it. He had to go on and do something about his life, but what. In moments lie this everything just felt hopeless and on top of it all, Snape was there to watch it.  
  
"I we had known how they treated you we might have been able to find another solution, although that's too late now, but it might have been easier if someone knew."  
  
"I didn't want to tell anyone. I was never wanted there, and it was nothing I couldn't handle." At this he heard Snape sigh. "What?" he asked.  
  
"Your uncle beat you senseless, that is not acceptable, under any circumstances." Snape looked stern when he said this. Harry could almost see concern in his face, but surely he was just imagining it.  
  
"What was I supposed to tell people then? 'I don't want to live with my relatives; they bully me because I'm a fag.' Would you have told anyone that?" The tears were burning in his eyes, but they had not yet started to fall, he wouldn't cry.  
  
"No, I wouldn't." His voice sounded recognising, almost sad. The sigh that came after sounded just how Harry felt. Could Snape.? No, he couldn't be could he? Was that what Sam had been talking about and in that case, how had he known?  
  
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, all you could hear was the crackling of the fire and the sighing of a draft somewhere. Harry opened his mouth several times to say something that he forgot the moment he was about to say it. He drank some tea and tried not to focus on the loudness of his own breathing. He tried to think of something to say, but everything he came up with sounded stupid. He shifted a bit on the couch, drew up his legs and felt a bit less exposed. If he made himself small enough nothing could hurt him. That was something he had found partially true at the Dursleys. If they didn't notice him, they didn't yell at him or taunt him. The tea was starting to get cold, so he drank up what was left in the cup. He put it on the table and leaned back in the couch. Why couldn't he say something? Why couldn't Snape say something? What the hell, he thought.  
  
"Why are you so understanding about this, towards me of all people?" at least he had ended the silence.  
  
"It is my duty as a teacher to offer help if I think help is needed." Formal as ever.  
  
"I know you believe that as little as I do. Never once during my years here have you offered me help unless someone ordered you to." What if Snape had told Dumbledore and the headmaster had told him to talk to Harry? The suspicion must have showed in his face.  
  
"I assure you that I haven't told anyone. I can see perfectly well for myself that you indeed need to talk to someone."  
  
"You make it sound like I was some sort of head case." He only got a raised eyebrow as an answer to that.  
  
"Well, I'm not. I had a messy childhood, that's all."  
  
"Yes, blame someone else, that would be just like you, Potter." A year ago Harry would have been deeply offended, by that. Now he didn't know how to react to it.  
  
"And how exactly am I then?" He hoped to get Snape's honest opinion on this, but the hopes weren't high. The answer didn't come directly and he began to wonder if it had been a good idea to ask in the first place.  
  
"You are as you have always been, insufferable and a Gryffindor, but that might just be two different words for the same thing." No harm done, nothing of the revealing kind. Harry was relieved.  
  
"Well, that was certainly unexpected," he said in a sarcastic tone. "To think I actually thought you would give me an honest answer."  
  
"I was honest, you are insufferable and you're only further proving my point by questioning me."  
  
"There is more to me than that."  
  
"I'm sure there is, but I have no intention of finding it out."  
  
"Then why did you invite me here?"  
  
"I've already told you that, it's a part of my job as a teacher."  
  
"I think I'd better go now, I have some reading to do." Harry arose from the sofa and turned towards the door. "Thanks for dinner, it was good."  
  
"The next occlumency lesson is tomorrow at nine in the morning." Harry nodded and walked through the door.  
  
The last part had gone so fast. Severus was not sure of what had happened. The boy had left and he was alone again. Had he made him leave? He was sure Potter had enjoyed their verbal sparring match; he was actually a bit surprised he had done so. He was pretty sure Harry Potter from one or two years ago would have been a brat about it and let his temper get out of control. Maybe it was the tea, it hade certainly made him relax enough to be civil with the boy. Maybe the tea was the reason Potter hadn't run out earlier. He sighed and went to the kitchen to put the teacups away.  
  
Wait a minute. Had he just been concerned about Potter's well being? Well, think again. He certainly had not wanted the boy to enjoy the dinner and no he had not wanted him to stay. And no, he was not in denial. He loathed the brat; everyone knew that, he always had. It was just as he had said to Potter. He was doing his duty as a teacher. He was.  
  
Harry tried to walk calmly and composed as he got out of the professor's rooms. He didn't know why he had become so upset. He had been on the verge of screaming out loud, but he didn't want to embarrass himself. He had decided to show Snape that he had more self-control than that from the beginning. Although, over all it had gone pretty well. He had even been enjoying himself for a short while in there. He'd never thought that would happen, Harry Potter, enjoying himself in the company of Professor Snape. A while ago he would have thought it ridiculous and his friends probably would even now. Yes, his friends. His thought always seemed to return to them. He missed them, which he admitted, but he wasn't sure he wanted them back as they were now.  
  
He went in without talking to Samuel. He wanted to think things over for himself. It had been yet another exhausting day. Maybe some of those exercises in the occlumency books would help. He definitely needed to clear his mind.  
  
------------------  
  
I want to thank all of you who have reviewed this fic. You have been so helpful. It is a lot more fun to write when you know someone's reading and liking it. I actually never though that would happen, not to this extent anyway. Awww! To all of you.  
  
Wynjara - Interesting guess, but no. You'll have to wait and see.  
  
Morgainthefairy  
  
Lyssanne/white owl  
  
Mikee  
  
Raven Girl - You'll get your kissing, promise. ^_^  
  
Layce74   
  
Azreial9621  
  
Thirteen Ravens - You never know, it certainly looks like he's up to something.  
  
Electricandroid  
  
Arwen Rayne - He'll show some determination soon enough. ^^  
  
Kaoru Hikari  
  
Minreva-Severus-Dumbledor  
  
Goldenpaw - I'll come to that. No worries.  
  
Ulrika 


	5. Exploration of ones mind

Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the plot. JK Rowling owns the characters; except for those I have created. I don't make any profit from this and I really don't own anything that belongs to JK Rowling, really.  
  
Warning: This story contains slashy elements. If that offends you I suggest you leave. If you don't know what that means, I suggest you find out and come back when you have, if it is something that appeals to you.  
  
Disappearing  
  
-Chapter five, Exploration of ones Mind-  
  
Harry awoke the next morning at eight, not feeling tired at all. Strangely enough the oddness of the evening before didn't bother him at all as much as he thought it would and that puzzled him a bit. He felt clear in his head and for the first time he actually felt ready for an occlumency lesson. That was especially odd since the last such lesson he had had ended in disaster. But not even that disaster could really bring him down it seemed. What had he done to get in such a good mood, he wondered. Why had he all of a sudden gained this confidence out of nowhere? Why was he so calm? He hadn't dreamt anything out of the ordinary and he didn't feel possessed by anything, although he doubted that would make you calm. So it wasn't anything that had to do with his sleep, it couldn't be. What had he done last night? He had had dinner with Snape and it had been ok. He had then gone home and he had not talked to Sam. He had sat down in the sofa and he had read. Yes, that was it. He had read a bit about the exercises in the occlumency books and then he had tried some of them. He had practiced opening and closing his mind and he had practiced emptying it and sorting out and hiding important stuff. That's what he'd done.  
  
He had not expected it to have such an effect on him. The exercises he had done in his fifth year had been devastating. He had given them up very fast and not felt good after doing them at all. Maybe he had not done them right or maybe it wasn't the same as in the books. He couldn't remember exactly what they had been. He knew only that this was good. He felt certain that Snape would have a much harder time finding anything out from his thoughts today.  
  
He wondered if Snape really had told him the truth when he said that the subconscious of the Legilimens searched for things by itself if you did not guide it. The though that Snape might have been lying about that had not occurred to him until now. But why might he been lying? Had he tried to get to those memories on purpose? Why? What right had he to go looking into Harry's private thoughts? The more he thought about it the angrier he got. He had no right at all. But the question remained, why had he done it? He must have sensed something that he had then latched on to.  
  
Maybe he could find out himself, Harry thought. Maybe he could somehow get it out of Snape. Although it was not very likely that he'd tell Harry by his own free will. No, there would have to be some cunning worked into this. Maybe if he could find out about the Legilimens spell, how it worked and what it took to be successful with it. Then maybe he wouldn't have to ask Snape at all. Then maybe he could get the information from him anyway.  
  
He thought about this as he ate breakfast and got dressed. He looked at the clock and it was already twenty to nine. He thought some more while he worked his way through the dungeons to the classroom. When he got to the door he had figured out that it wouldn't be quite that simple. Snape was an experienced and talented Occlumens and a Legilimens as well. Snape would know if Harry was trying to penetrate his mind and that would not be good at all. That would be very embarrassing and humiliating and probably as horrible as when he had caught Harry looking into the pensieve. It probably wouldn't have been as bad if everything else hadn't been so bad at the time, but it was and if it hadn't been, he'd probably never taken occlumency lessons. No, he would have to think of some other plan, but find it out he had decided to do.  
  
He stepped into the classroom and found Snape by the desk, reading a book.  
  
"Hello professor."  
  
"Mister Potter. Are you ready to begin?"  
  
"Yes sir." Harry drew his wand and prepared to get hit by the legilimens spell. He felt like he was actually going to make it this time.  
  
"Legilimens," shouted Snape.  
  
He felt the spell coming at him. He felt it trying to get in. He relaxed and concentrated on nothing, on emptiness and on keeping the spell out. It was not very much unlike the exercises he had done last night. It was just a bit more pressure involved. Both the pressure from the spell trying to get in and the pressure to make it, to prove to Snape that he could do it. He didn't at all feel the same physical pressure this time. His knees almost didn't buck at all and it wasn't very hard to stand up straight. He actually though he could throw the spell off now. What should he use as a counter spell? He though it silly that the legilimens spell didn't have a specific counter spell, at least not that he knew of. It would have been easier if it had. Although, all you had to do was to break your opponents concentration enough to make him break the spell. Not to hard.  
  
"Expellimarus," he yelled and saw Snape land on the floor, his wand flying across the room. Harry straightened himself and breathed out. Snape was still on the floor. Maybe he should help him up. He went over to the professor and reached out his hand, which Snape, to his surprise, took. He went and got the wand on the other side of the room and turned to Harry.  
  
"That was an improvement. You didn't seem to have at all as much problems closing your mind this time as the last. How come?" Snape looked interested. Harry decided that was strange, especially if it was in him.  
  
"I don't know really. Or, well, I think I know." He almost stuttered. Why did Snape always have to make him so nervous? Why hadn't he been so nervous last night?  
  
"Spit it out."  
  
"Well, I did some of the exercises in the books last night before I went to bed. I was all worked up and I needed to relax a bit so I thought they would help. They did, I fell asleep the minute I got into bed and slept like a rock all night through. I was even calm and felt, well, secure I guess, when I woke up this morning." That hadn't gone too bad, although he thought he might have sounded a bit too enthusiastic.  
  
"Interesting. Which exercises did you do exactly?" Now he looked even more intrigued. Harry began to suspect that he had done something he shouldn't have.  
  
"I don't remember what they were called right now and I don't have the books with me, but I could show you if I had them." Now he really thought he sounded too enthusiastic, like a ten year old wanting to show something off to his big brother or something. What was this that had flown into him?  
  
"Please do."  
  
"Right now?"  
  
"Yes mister Potter, right now."  
  
"But they're in my rooms, sir."  
  
"Let's go then." Right, why didn't he think of that? At least he had done well with defending himself today. It had been easier than he'd expected and he didn't feel as uneasy as he used to do after being hit by legilimens. Maybe because it hadn't actually penetrated his mind. That was probably it. He found himself walking behind Snape towards his rooms and wondered how that had happened. Shouldn't he be the one walking first, taking that it was his rooms they were going to and all. When they got there Snape even said the password to let them in. But then Snape never really had had any respect for his students and certainly not for Harry.  
  
"Could you get the books then, mister Potter," he asked. Harry went to the bedroom to get them. He was relieved that Snape hadn't gone off looking for them himself, not that he had anything he didn't want people to see lying around, it was just that he didn't feel comfortable with anyone going through his stuff. He found the books fairly quickly and went back out to Snape.  
  
"Let's sit down over here." He gestured towards the sofa. "It'll be easier to see that way." That sounded pretty dorky, he knew that, but the books were heavy and it would be easier if they could lay them out on the table. Since why had he started caring so much about how he sounded anyway, and why did he do it around Snape?  
  
When Severus saw what exercises Potter had been doing last night he was quite shocked. They were advanced procedures that only a fairly experienced occlumens should be able to manage. Although that might explain the slightly unusual behaviour the boy was showing today. He seemed to be calm, and that was an effect of the exercises, but he also stuttered a bit and seemed generally quite nervous. The exercises were supposed to heighten your senses and strengthen your mind and to someone untrained it might have some side effects. The only problem was that a person as inexperienced as Potter shouldn't have been able to make them work at all. Did the boy really have more magical potential than the rest of the magical population or was it just plain dumb luck? The latter was certainly known to have happened before.  
  
"This is very interesting, mister Potter," he said with a sneer.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You shouldn't have been able to manage these exercises at all considering how little experience you have."  
  
"Is that good or bad?"  
  
"I don't know. Are you feeling any side effects that you think might be something to worry about?"  
  
"I. No, I don't think so. I feel more balanced and quite calm, but that's a good thing, right?"  
  
"As far as I know, that's normal. You have seemed a bit nervous this morning, do you think that could have something to do with the exercises?" That was a strange question. He felt it had to be asked though. Albus would kill him if he broke the Golden Boy.  
  
"No, I don't think that would have anything to do with it, no. It only seems to happen around you anyway." How interesting. Maybe he still scared the boy or maybe it was because of last night. He still wondered why the boy had run off all of a sudden. He decided not to express his concerns about that and go for the kill instead. He looked Potter in the eye and lifted an eyebrow.  
  
"What Potter? Are you still afraid of me?"  
  
"No, I'm not. I don't know why that happens." The boy was blushing. Why was he blushing? He should be talking back like a good little brat. Severus didn't know why this made him so uneasy. Maybe it was because of the dream. It still bothered him and he was sure the Potter in the dream had worn a slight blush. Although it had been quite pretty. No! Potter was not pretty, he was a student and he certainly wasn't supposed to feature in those kinds of dreams.  
  
"Alright then, if everything feels normal, you should keep doing them and hopefully these lessons won't have to go on as long as I thought they would."  
  
"Sounds good to me." The blush was gone and Potter looked like the Potter he knew and despised once more. This made him feel relieved and he wondered for a moment what was happening to him. He was almost being nice to the brat. Why, he had no idea. He just didn't feel like being mean to him. He blamed it all on the dream and started to get up to get to his own quarters.  
  
"The next lesson will be on Friday morning, same time. We will then try to do the whole process without a wand." He thought the last part would awake some sort of protest in the boy, so that he could run him over, but he didn't get that he'd expected.  
  
"But that's Christmas morning," and then. "Oh, bugger, I haven't bought a single present."  
  
"Christmas morning or no, you are to attend the lesson." And thereby he left the room.  
  
It was Christmas in two days and Harry hadn't bought one single present. Not even thought about it one tiny bit. But then again that wasn't so strange with all that had happened the last few weeks. With all that had happened. Then it hit him. He had no one left to give any presents to. Sirius was gone and he was the person Harry most felt like giving something to at the thought of Christmas. The Dursleys were gone and even if Harry had never felt like giving them anything he had always sent them at least a little gift every Christmas. Then there were his friends. Should he give them something? He probably should. He should probably give something to Ginny and Arthur and Molly too. Christmas shopping had always been fun, but suddenly it felt less and less appealing. He had to do it though. Ron and Hermione had probably bought him presents. They had always bought presents for each other so why shouldn't they do so this Christmas? He had to get to Hogsmeade he decided. Maybe he could talk to Dumbledore after lunch. The headmaster was usually in the Great Hall during the meals; maybe he could even ask him while eating. They ate at the same table after all.  
  
Until then he decided to look through the books on occlumency for more specific information on the legilimens spell. He thought it'd be good to know, even if he couldn't use it against Snape to find out if he had been lying. Maybe he could find out how the spell itself worked and what it did if you didn't tell it what to look for. If he had some information that contradicted what Snape had said about it he could confront the professor and hopefully get an answer. The more he thought about it the more strange it seemed. A spell that detected the wishes of the caster's subconscious and then acted accordingly. It sounded very unlikely.  
  
By the time Harry went to the Great Hall for lunch he had still not found out what he wanted about the spell. To tell the truth, there wasn't much about it in the books. Most of the texts in them were about different techniques and various occlumenses and their achievements. It was a bit strange, Harry thought, that the books had so little information about the spell they were teaching defence against. The way it was going now, he would probably need a whole other set of books to learn anything about the legilimens spell.  
  
He was a bit late to lunch, but he didn't think that'd matter much. Dumbledore was there and to his surprise so was Snape. He sat down opposite to the headmaster and a meal popped up in front of him. As usual it smelled delicious, nothing like the food he'd got at the Dursleys. Aunt Petunia never had been a good cook.  
  
"Hello Harry, how are you doing today? How are the occlumency lessons coming along?" Dumbledore was cheerful and his eyes were twinkling as usual. Harry hoped to God, or Merlin or whatever higher power there was that he didn't know about what Snape had seen.  
  
"I'm fine professor Dumbledore, and the lessons are going well." He smiled and hoped he didn't look too sheepish.  
  
"Good, good, but call me Albus, professor Dumbledore sounds so formal." Harry thought he could hear Snape sigh at those words. "The lessons are going well you say. Does that mean you are making progress."  
  
"Yes I think so sir, eh, Albus." Now, that was sheepish.  
  
"Hmm, well, maybe professor Snape has a comment or two to that. Severus?" Dumbledore turned to Snape.  
  
"Yes, he is making progress, but I don't know for the world how that happened. It appears he can manage techniques that are meant for occlumenses at a far higher level than he is." It seemed Snape was somewhat reluctant to saying these things to Albus. Harry thought it was because it might sound like credit. And he wouldn't want it to do that, now would he, especially not in front of the object of this discussion.  
  
"Intriguing." Harry swore he could see light coming out of Dumbledore's eyes." Can he continue doing these exercises without coming to harm?"  
  
"As far as I know, yes."  
  
"Good, good." He turned back to Harry. "This is a rather pleasant surprise, don't you think?" Harry wasn't really sure what the old man meant.  
  
"I guess." Now would be a good time to ask, he told himself. Say it before he starts talking again. "Um, sir."  
  
"Yes Harry?"  
  
"Since it's Christmas on Friday and I haven't bought any presents yet I would like to ask permission to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow, or maybe even this afternoon."  
  
"Of course you would." Would what? Albus looked thoughtful. "You will need someone to chaperone you though. It is too dangerous for you to go alone, especially with all the people that's going to be in Hogsmeade now this close to Christmas." Of course he would have to have a chaperone. By looking at the teachers that was still at school he'd almost rather stay in the castle. Imagine having to go Christmas shopping with Trelawny or Firenze, however more interesting the divination classes had become since he started, and he didn't think Binns could leave the castle, being a ghost and all. Why did he even attend the meals? Ghosts didn't need to eat, but maybe it was some sort of social need.  
  
"I understand. I don't have that many presents to buy so it won't take very long." Harry hoped with all his heart that it wouldn't be Trelawny.  
  
Once again Dumbledore turned to Snape. Why didn't that come as a surprise? But at least it was better than any of the other choices he might have made.  
  
"What are you doing this afternoon Severus?" Harry could swear Snape was radiating contempt. He listened with great interest to what was to come next.  
  
"I am making a new batch of healing potions for the infirmary." Snape looked pleased with the excuse. Albus sparkled.  
  
"Oh, I am sure that can wait a day or two, the students don't arrive in yet a while anyway. Would you mind following Harry to Hogsmeade after lunch?" Harry caught himself hoping that Snape wouldn't come up with another excuse. He couldn't want to be going Christmas shopping with Snape, could he? He was beginning to suspect he needed to sit down and examine his own mind sometime soon. He had been feeling so many things lately that he had no idea he had in him. Most of them being about Snape and that made him rather uneasy. Why, for example, had he had to blush when Snape had asked him if he was afraid of him. Of course he wasn't afraid. A thousand good answers to the question rushed through his mind now, but none of them had been there when it was asked. Instead he'd blushed. Why had he blushed? It had been one of those blushes Cho had extracted form him when he thought he'd been in love with her. Oh Merlin, he wasn't in love with Snape, was he? No, he couldn't be. No, no, no!  
  
Suddenly his plate became very interesting. Anything not to think about him having a crush on Snape. That simply wasn't possible. Ok, he was gay and he fell in love with boys, it had been hard to accept that in the beginning, but it was no match to this. He fell in love with boys, not mean teachers old enough to be his fathers. It didn't happen. No.  
  
"Since you give me no other choice, Albus, I suppose I have to go." Now Harry wasn't at all sure he preferred Snape to go with him over Trelawny, but now it was too late to do anything about it.  
  
Severus hadn't actually been at all as reluctant to going with Harry as it had sounded, but he had been just as stubborn about accepting it as Harry was. It simply didn't do for him to want to spend time around the Boy Who Lived. Why would he want that?  
  
Anyhow, it was decided that he and Potter would leave in a carriage as soon as they were ready. The snow was falling outside and it was probably more comfortable than walking. It would in any case take less time, which meant less time he had to spend in Potter's company. He really didn't like shopping either, especially around Christmas. It was just too messy. He imagined Potter would like to go to all the usual shops teenage boys go to and the thought of that was revolting. The only ones he actually visited was the potions supply store and Madam Malkin's every once in a while. The school provided for almost everything else and the rest he could order by owl. He shrugged at the thought of having to visit Zonko's right before Christmas.  
  
Harry thought it would be good to get away from the castle for a while. However much he thought of the place as home, it got boring when you had almost no one to talk to. Sitting in the carriage across to Snape wasn't exactly the thing he wanted to do most now. He wanted to do his shopping and then spend some time in the Three Broomsticks, just being around people. No, he corrected himself; he wanted to be around people that didn't stare and that didn't recognize him, like it had been when he was with David, his muggle boyfriend. But he probably wasn't going to see him again. He had no reason to go back to Little Whinging now that the Dursleys were gone. He hadn't seen David much after the Dursleys had discovered he was gay. They had not let him out of sight for long more than once or twice. He sighed and tried not to feel too miserable. It was Christmas after all.  
  
The ride went fairly quick and neither Harry nor Snape had said one word during it. Harry had been lost in thoughts and woke up from them with a jerk when the carriage stopped. He pulled his cloak tight around his body to keep the wind out while stepping out in the snow.  
  
Hogsmeade was crowded as expected and Harry started to think he shouldn't have asked Dumbledore to let him go. Surely Ron and Hermione wouldn't be too upset if their presents were a bit delayed. But now it was too late. He braced himself and started walking towards the main street. He decided to go to Zonko's first to try to find a present for Ron, but got second thoughts when he was that the line to the cashier went all the way out in the street. He stopped walking and looked at Snape. The pained look in the man's face made the decision for him.  
  
"I am not going in there," he said. "No way I'm standing in that line." Instead they made their way to the bookstore to find something for Hermione.  
  
While it wasn't as packed with people as Zonko's it was still very crowded, almost like Flourish and Bott's the days before school start. Since Arithmancy seemed to be what interested Hermione the most Harry didn't bother to look through the other sections of the store. Quite soon he found a book that looked interesting. He knew it wasn't used as a textbook at Hogwarts and the author seemed serious enough, nothing like Lockhart anyway.  
  
He really did not feel like having to go to one more shop to find a present to Ron. He had a feeling they'd all be as crowded. So he went over to the quidditch section and picked out the latest edition of The World Quidditch Foundation's big encyclopaedia on quidditch. It wasn't very imaginative, but it was all he could think of at the moment.  
  
When he got out again and looked at the clock he found that he'd been in there for over an hour. He was exhausted and hungry and Snape definitely looked less than happy. He decided to skip the gift for the Weasley clan. All he really wanted to do now was to go back to Hogwarts and be someplace calm and quiet.  
  
"I'm ready to go back now Professor." Harry didn't want to go to the Three Broomsticks either anymore. Being alone in the castle for as long as he had, had made him a bit uncomfortable around large crowds, more than he already was that is.  
  
"We'll have to walk since getting a carriage now would probably be impossible." Snape wondered why it hadn't taken longer for Harry to buy the presents, but then he saw the quite small bag he was carrying and remembered what the boy had said. He really didn't have anyone to buy gifts for anymore.  
  
They started walking and they were as quite as they had been on the journey into town, only now the silence had become even more awkward. Neither of them could think of anything to say to the other and both were too proud to try to talk about something irrelevant that would show how awkward they were feeling. So they finally got to the castle, under complete silence. Harry silently thanked Snape for coming with him and went down to his rooms. Snape went to his lab to brew those healing potions.  
  
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Thank you so much to everyone that's reviewed. I'm past fifty reviews now!! *squee* Never though that would happen really. Anyway, I know this was a bit short, but I still have loads of things to do aside from writing. There will be more Samuel in the next chapter, and maybe some action. or is it too soon? 


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